


Let's Get A Little Bit Rowdy

by SnowWhiteKnight



Series: Rowdy [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Carpe Diem, Dark Sansa, F/M, Fighting, Fluff, MMA, Mallory (see FancyKid's A Lightness) - Freeform, Older Sansa, One Night Stands, POV Sandor, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationships, Past Violence, Sansa Kicks Butt, Stranger Likes Sansa Better Than Sandor, Stranger is a dog, Stranger is a jerk, Sweet Sandor, Violence, Whirlwind Romance, anger issues, lots of therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:05:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 37
Words: 79,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the evening before the Big Day (not her wedding day) and Sansa has been dragged out by her friends in an attempt to prevent her from becoming a hermit when she runs into her hated ex, Joffrey Baratheon. A tall, dark stranger steps in to lend a helping hand.</p><p>Mentions of Jaime x Brienne, Bronn x Margaery, Arya x Gendry, Tyrion x Shae, Renly x Loras</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sansa: DJ Got Us Fallin' In Love

**Author's Note:**

> I spent way more time on this than I intended. Anywho, just a few notes: for the purposes of the story, Sansa and Sandor are only a few years apart in age: Sansa is 24 and Sandor is 26. Their behavior is different too, but that will be shown/explained in due time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [DJ Got Us Falling In Love Again](https://youtu.be/C-dvTjK_07c)

The club was dark, loud, and smelled of unwashed flesh as the bass thumped and the bodies on the floor twisted and ground against one another. Sansa nursed her drink at the bar while she watched her friends dance wildly to the thumping music, her leather jacket discarded to the back of the bar chair, though she kept her long sleeved hoodie on. She hadn’t intended to go out tonight. She had finished up the latest chapter of her current novel and was able to turn it in to her editor early. Tonight was supposed to be relaxing.

Sevenmas was a little more than two months away and the days were filled with rapidly chilling air already, but the snow refused to fall, perfect for ordering a pizza and staying in, though since tomorrow was The Big Day, the pizza would have to wait until after. After weigh in, her usual “evening before The Big Day” routine was to mix up a single rummy coke, followed by lots and lots of hydration liquid, and binge watch a fighting anime. Tonight was going to be Air Master, a recommendation by Tyrion. 

Margaery had been appalled when she found out, even though she had known Sansa’s ritual for a while now, and Sansa didn’t understand Mar’s reaction until the blonde girl said, “Oh, nononononono...we are going out tonight! I need to get laid, and you are going to be my wing-girl.” Suddenly, it all made sense.

Arya had heard about it and wanted to join as well, which meant Gendry and Brienne came too. With Brienne joining, that also meant Jamie, Tyrion and Bronn were not far behind.  _Which is probably the way Margaery planned it_. Sansa sighed. She hadn’t even really been needed in her “wing-girl” status. Margaery had been hot for Bronn since they met at his fight two months ago. He had been in the third to last fight of the night, marking him as an up and comer in the local circuit of MMA or mixed martial arts. Do well enough and there was a shot at the UFC matches. Tyrion Lannister was his manager, and Jaime “The KingSlayer” Lannister was his sparring partner and co-trainer, along with Brienne “The Maid” Tarth, who also trained Sansa. 

Sansa took another tiny sip of her drink and sighed again. At least she had gotten her rum cherry coke. She just wanted to go home, maybe write a bit more. She loved her flexible day job, because she could do it even at night and it was great for her fighting and training schedule. 

She sighed. Margaery meant well, the whole charade of Sansa being her wing-girl was really just an attempt to get her out and about, meeting new people, specifically a potential life partner, and  _not_ becoming a hermit. If it had been about Bronn and only Bronn, like Margaery claimed, she would only have had to ask Arya. 

Sansa sighed again. She had tried, but after Harry, she hadn’t had an interest in anyone. If she was going to be honest with herself, she hadn’t been that interested in Harry either, but she knew her mother was really hoping the match would work out. She appreciated the thoughts everyone was putting into her love life, but after everything she had been through, Sansa was ready to give up on dating.  _Seriously, who meets a "life partner" in a club? I should be a spinster cat lady. Like my old babysitter, but with dogs. I could buy a house out in the rural area, with a HUGE yard, and just have a pack of dogs. Maybe I’ll go to the pet adoption center on Sunday. Might as well get started. Oh, but the apartment doesn’t allow big dogs. Don’t really want a small dog though. Need one that can keep up with me on runs._ A hand on her back made her tense up.

“Whatsa a pretty lady like you doing all by my lonesome? Can I refesh that drinks for you?” a slurred voice said next to her ear. She shivered from the creepy factor of it all. This was the other reason she hated going to clubs. There was always the chance of running into  _him_. She had nearly made it two years since the last time, too. Turning to meet her “admirer”, she found herself looking into cruel and glittering green eyes of her ex, Joffrey Baratheon.

“No, thank you. Not interested,” she said, turning away. 

“Aww, don’t be that ways, Sana! I’ll take you backs. Yur still the beautifulest woman I ever seen and sexed.”

_You’re not that same girl anymore. He has no power over you. You could break him in half if you wanted to. Elder Brother would not like that, but he would understand. Try to do this the easy way. Stand up to him. Show him you’re not afraid._ Sansa gritted her teeth and glared at him without turning her head all the way to face him, “Listen  _Joff_ , I appreciate the offer, but I am  _not_ interested. Need I remind you, there is a restraining order in place? Five hundred yards. If Brienne or Jaime see you, you  _will_ be locked up. Go find someone else to pick up.”

He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and whirled her back around.  _Well, he never was the brightest bulb, and he’s drunk to boot._ Instinctively, she adjusted the glass in her hand, ready to smash it into his temple if she needed to. She didn’t want to cause a scene, but she also knew she had to shut him down before things got out of hand. His cronies wouldn’t be far behind if he went on the fast train to crazyville. It wouldn’t take long to see which way he was headed.

His smile was now a snarl, “No, you lishen here, you--” He was interrupted by a strong hand clamping down on his shoulder.

“I think the lady wants to be left alone, kid,” a deep voice rasped. Both Sansa and Joffrey looked up at the man who had intervened. 

_By the gods!_ she thought.  _He’s a giant! And built like the Warrior made flesh!_ Unconsciously, she stood up straighter, pushing her chest out a bit in the process. She was no slouch in the height department, taking after her father’s side of the family, but this man had several inches on her, and even more on Joffrey. The contrast between the two males was astounding, she could see how short the blond was, having not grown much more since they were in high school. He, in turn, looked disgusted by the giant.

“Mind your tongue!” he shrieked, his voice betraying his fear as it rose an octave. He coughed to clear his throat. “As I wash saying, the lady and I were having a private discusson. Now get losht before my friends over there help you leave.” He gestured to three men standing at a table, drinking what looked like that pisswater import beer Tyrion was always railing against. 

Boros and Meryn she recognized, the third man was unfamiliar to her. Sizing up the men, Sansa saw that while they were intimidating, they probably did not have the fortitude to go up against the giant. He was steady as a rock, the drink in his hand had barely been touched, while they were starting to sway on their feet, and not because of the music. Of course, if push came to shove, she would take on at least two of them, leaving the other two for the giant. Still, she couldn’t afford to have anything happen tonight, if it could be prevented.  _It’s all about tomorrow. Ugh, time to take the shortcut out of this mess. At least he’s cute, I think. Damn club lighting_. _Can’t believe I’m doing this, don’t flinch, don’t flinch, don’t flinch,_ she told herself. She walked around Joffrey and slid her arm around the giant’s waist, leaned into him slightly, and rested her head on the side of his chest. She was surprised at how warm and comforting his body was.  _And no involuntary flinching! Maybe I’m cured?_ “As I was saying, thank you, but I’m not interested.” She had felt the giant’s body stiffen slightly from her touch, but thankfully he did not betray the lie.

Joffrey’s mouth fell open, but he quickly shut it and stormed off. Sansa watched him leave with relief, feeling only guilty that she had stooped to using another man to drive him off.  _Speaking of…_ She turned to the giant, not taking her arm from around his waist, “Sorry for the inconvenience. Can I buy you a drink to make up for it? Unless you’re here with someone?” She really hoped not. She could see him a bit better now that she was standing closer. He was not beautiful the way Joffrey was, but was more of the rugged handsome type, even with that glower. His piercing stare, his somewhat Northern features and obvious strength were more than just a bit tempting.  _And his scent…_ He smelled of the forest, earthy and clean after a strong rain, with the underlying musky scent of just him. She could feel his body from where she touched him, strong and firm. She felt a flicker of desire begin as she bit her lip and looked him over. He was staring down Joffrey and his friends, allowing her a good, long look.  _This guy is worth talking to. I haven’t felt an attraction like this to a guy since...well, ever._ Neither Joffrey nor Harry had produced such an immediate effect on her.

His clothing was snug over his muscular body. Wide shoulders covered by a black t-shirt, tucked into jeans that showed off his long legs, and boots that begged to kick ass. He was holding a jacket in his hand, good sturdy quality and not at all like the stuff Tyrion bought and then complained that it didn’t keep him warm. This guy’s fashion style was clearly “intimidation with a dash of comfortable”, but damn, he made it look delicious. His long dark hair fell over half of his face as an attempt to conceal a multitude of scars that were visible even in the dim and ever changing colored lights.  _The marks of reconstructive surgery, but the original wound must have been something fierce to still look like that...another fighter perhaps? Not quite the right kind of scar for that.. Oh, wait, I recognize it now...A burn._ Once upon a time, she would have been horrified by such scars, but nowadays… She looked over at her friends, who hadn’t noticed anything and were still dancing. 

He turned back to her, his piercing stare now on her. She felt a tug at her brain, an almost memory.  _His eyes! They look so familiar._

“I was meeting a friend, but he seems preoccupied at the moment,” he said and chugged the drink in his hand, slamming the glass down on the bar counter. “So please, by all means.”

_Oh, right, I offered to buy him a drink._ Relieved that he would be sticking around for at least a while longer, she reluctantly let go of his waist and signaled the bartender. “What’ll it be, miss?” 

“A drink for my new friend and knight in shining armor. Whatever he already ordered, I suppose,” she said with a grin. The bartender nodded and began mixing.

“I’m no knight, girl,” the giant said gruffly. Sansa smiled at him.

“Oh, but I beg to differ, you are. You rescued me, a dainty maiden in distress!” She put her hand to her forehead as if in a faint and said in a melodramatic southron belle accent, “Oh whateva would ah ‘ave done without you, good ser?”

That earned her a smile from the giant. “I wasn’t saving you, I was saving the drink in your hand. You were about to smash it into his head. Waste of good liquor.”

Her smile broadened, “You saw that, did you?” He nodded and took his drink from the bartender. “Not many would have. What’s your name, oh gallant savior of rum?”

“Sandor. Yours?”

“Sansa. Nice to meet you, Sandor.”


	2. Sandor: I Kissed A Girl (And She Liked It)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I Kissed A Girl](https://youtu.be/tAp9BKosZXs)

“So who was that guy? Seemed a lot more personal than a random cunt trying and failing to pick up a hottie.”  _More importantly, why did you turn away from a pretty boy like him to sit with an ugly dog like me?_

“Heh, so you think I’m hot?” 

“Tch, you know what I mean.”  _Of course you’re hot. Anyone who says you aren’t is either blind or a damn liar._

“Come on, just admit it, you think I’m pretty.”

“You’re so vain.” 

“The song is totes about me,” she said with a grin. He chuckled despite himself. If he didn’t know any better, he would think she was flirting with him. He was really, really glad he hadn’t kept walking when he saw her being harassed.  _Stop crowing about it, you would have stopped no matter what girl had been in her place. Though most girls wouldn’t have hung around this long. Maybe I should try asking her out. She’ll probably say no, though._

Sandor had suggested they sit out on the patio instead of trying to shout over the music, if you could call it that. There were wind breaks and heaters for anyone who wanted to enjoy the winter night without getting frostbitten, though for the moment it was just the two of them. The sounds of the club had been reduced to rhythmic thumping of the bass against the glass panes and he could better appreciate his new companion’s melodic voice, among other things about her. He was a little surprised when she agreed, but then again, the blond cunt and his friends were still watching them. Her little ploy meant he was stuck with her for a while longer. Not that he minded. 

He had been very surprised when he felt her arm snake around his waist, but not displeased. Her body had molded to his as she leaned in, and he had wanted to wrap his arm around her, but his self-doubt hadn’t allowed it. He had had a hard time not reacting to her, making him feel like a greenboy all over again, and had instead focused on the four men who were staring down the girl. Once she let go of him, and offered to buy him a drink, he was more or less able to reign himself in.

Even in the club lighting he could see how beautiful she was. She had turned more than a few heads when they walked outside, and she wasn’t even dressed like the rest of the usual club skanks. For one thing, she was showing hardly any skin. She was tall, though not as tall as that blonde woman who trained Bronn. Her hair was like fire, and she had some of the most perfect looking ivory skin he had ever seen without a ton of makeup. And her eyes, eyes like the sky on a bright, clear day, eyes that spoke volumes, eyes that had haunted his dreams, of a girl from long ago, though surely he would remember if he had ever met her before. He had felt an electric jolt when her eyes met his after he had interrupted the blond cunt.

A black leather jacket that reached down to her thighs was layered over her dark green hoodie. Both were open to show a thin, white cotton t-shirt that featured some action star he couldn’t remember the name of and framed the man with the words “I Will Break You”. Her casual khaki pants hugged her curvy hips in just right way that made him want to run his hands over her body, and were long enough to partially hide the sneakers that matched color with the hoodie. She was not just pretty, she was gorgeous. 

And so far, pretty easy to talk to. And funny. And smart. And she was ready to clock the blond cunt with a drinking glass. All pluses. And for some reason, she was looking at him like he was the most interesting person in the world. He took a swig of the whiskey she had bought him to help steady his nerves. Now they were sitting at a little cafe table, alone for all intents and purposes, though they could still see inside the club through the giant windows and anyone inside could still see them, if they chose to look out. The lighting was much more gentle out here, almost romantic, but definitely well lit enough that she had seen his scars, the pinkish-white lines crisscrossing across half his face and up past where his hairline should have been, and was not deterred, had merely given it a curious look, but hadn’t actually asked and kept his gaze. It was refreshing, to say the least. Most women were put off by it. 

“I think you’re just trying to dodge the question, girl.”

She sighed melodramatically. He liked that too. She didn’t take herself too seriously. “Fine, fine, you twisted my arm. If you  _must_ know, then no, he’s not just some ‘random cunt’, as you so eloquently put it. I used to date him back in high school.” He raised an eyebrow. She grinned and shrugged, “What can I say? I was young, stupid and fancied myself in love. The dream relationship went...sour, to say the least. We broke up, but he still feels like he has a say in my personal life. Usually, I avoid places like this, since I know he frequents them, but my friends insisted I needed to relax, dance a bit, maybe pick up a guy or something. Frankly, I just wanted to stay at home, watch TV and then get a good night’s sleep.”

“Why did you come out then?” he asked. He had perked up when she mentioned picking up a guy, though his hopes weren’t that high. She didn’t seem like a one night stand type of girl.  _Just ask her out, idiot. Go on, ya buggering fool._ The ever present voice of doubt whispered to him, “She’ll just fuck you and leave you. Like the rest of them.”  _She’s not a one night stand,_ he thought furiously.  _She wouldn’t play around, she would just tell you no outright._ He focused on her words, trying to rid himself of the voice.

She shrugged and gave him a sheepish grin, “I thought that maybe I would feel up to dancing a bit, but once I got here, not so much. When it comes to my friends, I tend to just go with the flow. Less hassle and headaches that way. Though, if I hadn’t come out, then my ex wouldn’t have bugged me, and I wouldn’t have gotten to meet you, so there’s that.”

He snorted, “That’s a really low bar you have set for a night out.”  _Elder Brother would kick me for that one. And then lecture me on hope. Hope, for fuck’s sake._

She smiled a little half-smile, set her drink down and got up from her chair. Slowly, she walked around the table, trailing her fingers against the edge of it. Taking his drink from his hand, she asked softly, “Maybe. And where’s your bar set?” She set the glass next to hers as she gazed down at him.  _I’ll be damned, I guess there is a bit of hope for me after all._

He raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. “I haven’t decided yet.”  _Oh, what the hell. Aim for the stars! You and me together, naked and in bed or clothed and hanging out, as long as I can see you again, that’s my bar. Fuck, I think I drank the whiskey too fast._

She sat on his lap, straddling him. “Is it here?” she asked with a playful smile, her voice still soft.

“Definitely going in the right direction.” His voice was lower, husky.  _Please don’t let her stop._

She grasped his shirt lightly with both hands and leaned forward, giving him a gentle kiss. “Now?”

“Not quite,” he ran his hands down her sides, gripping her shapely ass and giving a squeeze.  _Seven Hells, that’s a nice ass._

“How about now?” she asked, wrapping her arms around him and gave him a deeper kiss. Her soft tongue licked tentatively at his lips, as if asking for entrance. He granted it happily, savoring the taste of her. Rum, cherry cola, and her own sweetness wrapped in a fiery package. She mewled happily, a sound that made him wonder what noises she would make in the throes of passion.  _Gods, I’ve been reading too many S. Stark novels._

“Almost there,” he whispered.  _She feels and tastes heavenly._

“Hmmm, but whatever could be better than this?” she asked, with what he hoped was a hint to go further.  _Forget the stars. Might as well aim for the next universe._

“I can think of a thing or two. Next question is, your place or mine?” he asked. He felt her go still and suddenly felt he may have gone a little too far. His eyes were closed, but now he was afraid of opening them, afraid of the look he would see in her pretty blue eyes.  _Shit. Sure, she’s making out with you, sitting on your lap, and making some fucking sexy sounds, but still… Not a one night stand kind of girl, buggering fool. Should have just asked her out._ Any minute now, he’d feel the sting of a slap across his cheek.

He was surprised when instead he heard, “Yours. I’ve got nosy roommates.”


	3. Sansa: Give Me Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of nervous about this chapter. Just in general...because smut...  
> [Give Me Everything](https://youtu.be/EPo5wWmKEaI)

Sansa followed the giant known as Sandor back into the club. She slid her hand into his to make sure he didn’t lose her in the crowd. Not that she thought he wanted to, not with the way he had been looking at her when she sat on his lap, and definitely not with the way his erection had been pressing into her. She had been surprised when he asked her to go home with him, even more surprised when she agreed, but she did not regret it and had absolutely no intention of changing her mind. They had been chatting for a while before he brought up Joffrey, and in that time, the flicker of desire she felt for him in the beginning had been fanned to become a strong flame. Not a roaring fire, by any means, but she didn’t think he would have a problem with that. There was something about this man, and even if it was for one night only, she wanted him. Something in his eyes, eyes that felt oh so familiar, she felt like he would see her,  _really_ see her, and accept her. She knew it was a foolish notion, she would probably never see him again after tonight no matter what happened, but he  _was_ the first man she had had an interest in a very long time.  _He’s the first person I have been able to touch without ANY flinching! That has to mean something, right? Just for tonight, I can pretend._

She liked the feeling of his strong hand on hers, pulling her along behind him, creating a path through the wave of dancing bodies. She was grateful when she saw that Joffrey and his three buddies were distracted by a group of girls who were wearing matching outfits that left little to the imagination. She managed to catch a glimpse of Margaery. Her friend’s eyes went wide, but she gave her a big smile and a thumbs up. Sansa smiled back and waved goodbye. It was a quick walk to his motorcycle once they exited the club.

“I can give you a ride back later on,” he offered, handing her a second helmet from the compartment under the seat. “Unless you’d rather follow me.”

She shook her head, “My friend drove, and I can always take a taxi back.”

“Oh,” he looked as if he hadn’t considered that. “Do you need to go tell them?”

_He’s way more considerate than I thought a one night stand would be!_ She smiled at him, “No worries, she saw me leave with you. Even gave me a thumbs up. Though I’ll probably be inquisitioned later on. Better make this worth it, bub.”

He laughed and threw his leg over the bike, “Oh, trust me, if it’s not, I’ll give you as many more as you need it to feel ‘worth it’, girl.”

She blushed, thankful that he couldn’t see it in the dark night. That funny but pleasant feeling of lust mixed with like had settled in her lower abdomen. Securing her helmet as he started up the bike, she hopped on behind him, and wrapped her arms around his waist tightly. “Anything I need to know about being a passenger on this thing?” she shouted over the loud motor.

“Just hold on tight and follow my lead,” he shouted back as he kicked it into motion.

**********

She was a bundle of nerves when they arrived at his place.  _What am I doing? This is crazy! I should just call this off now._ But she didn’t want to, not really. It felt crazy, it felt right, it made no sense whatsoever. She wanted this to happen, and if she left, turned away, she knew she would regret it more than finding out where this would lead. Plus, her fingers were itching to touch him some more. It was a novel feeling.  _Is this normal? It’s been so long since I could stand being touched, and now that’s all I want to do to him!_

His home was a large, well kept, one story house, with what looked like a deck on the roof. The surrounding area was almost rural, with few houses around and a small forest behind his house. It reminded her of her uncle Benjen’s place up north. She smiled. She always loved that place.

The streets of King’s Landing flew by, and she barely felt the bite of the winter air, shielded as she was by Sandor’s large, warm body. The joy of riding a motorcycle for the first time hadn’t been able to take away from the nervousness she felt of the other first about to happen. Sansa could count the amount of serious relationships she had had on two fingers, and only one of those had involved sex. This would be the first time she went home with a guy, and with the express intention of giving herself to him.  _Wow, poetic much? Save it for your writing, weirdo._ She couldn’t help but laugh at herself. Sandor would be the second man she had willingly slept with.  _Well, really he’ll be the first man. Joffrey was and is still a boy. I don’t care how old he gets, he’ll always be just a boy._ She watched him flick on some lights, his strong body illuminated in the fluorescents.  _Gods, he really has nice lines. Wish I was an artist so I could ask to draw him._ She could hear a scratching coming from a closed door in the kitchen.

“Ah, shit. Just a moment, sounds like Stranger locked himself in the closet again. Probably needs to go outside, too. He won’t bite, but he does get intensely inquisitive around new people.” Sandor opened the door and Sansa saw a huge black dog leap out and greet his master with slobbery kisses. A small grin formed on her lips. She recognized the breed as a mastiff.  _He’s beautiful_ , she thought. As if sensing her thoughts about him, Stranger hopped back down to all fours and trotted over to sniff the new person. She waited until he was done before offering her hand. He licked it and looked up at her with big eyes, as if to say, “Well? Why are you not petting me yet?” She laughed and scratched him behind his ears. He rolled his big head into it, clearly enjoying the attention.

She heard a cough from the kitchen. She stage whispered to the canine, “I think your master wants a word with you.” Stranger gave her a big doggy grin and went back to the kitchen, walking right past Sandor to the back door. Her eyes followed the dog, and she noticed that while the basic necessities were there, the house lacked any personal touches.  _Maybe he just moved here recently?_

“Tch, damn dog,” he said as he opened the door to let Stranger out. “You can just stay out there!” Closing the door, he eyed Sansa appreciatively. “He normally doesn’t take to new people that quickly.” He walked up to where she stood. She suddenly felt shy. He gently took her chin in his hand and kissed her lightly. “Still want to do this? We could just hang out instead. I don’t have anywhere to be until tomorrow evening.”

She looked into his steel grey eyes. He wanted her, that was plain to see, but there was also hesitation. Realizing that he was nervous, too, she kissed him softly, “Yes, I still want to, but I have a confession. This is the first time I’ve ever done this, going home with a guy I just met. I’m, um, not a virgin, but neither am I particularly, um,  _experienced,_ so, besides the obvious part, I’m not really certain what I’m doing.”

He grinned wolfishly, “Just do what feels right, and,” he grasped her ass and pulled her towards him, “right now, kissing you senseless feels pretty right to me.”

She laughed and pulled him close. Kissing him deeply, she pulled at his shirt until it became untucked from his pants and she was able to slip her hands underneath. His skin was warm, his chest covered with coarse hair, and she felt the slight ridges of past scar tissue.  _Definitely a fighter of some kind_ , she thought. She wanted to ask him, but she also wanted him to keep kissing her. Grabbing her legs, he pulled them up to wrap around his waist. She held on tight to him as he carried her to the bedroom, never relenting on his onslaught of kisses. He placed her on the bed, pulling away to remove his shirt, and giving her time to kick off her shoes, before continuing. He started peppering kisses down her jawline and throat until he discovered a spot on her collarbone that caused her to moan. He licked and nipped at the spot, as his hands pulled her hoodie off. He paused to pull her shirt off as well. 

She was thankful that it was so dark in his room, the moon hidden from this side of the house. Her own scars would have been noticeable in the light from the kitchen, and she did not want to answer questions about it. There were always questions whenever anyone got a glimpse.  _He might understand though._ Her last attempt at a relationship went cold when Harry had seen them. At the time, she had been devastated, her self worth had plummeted, but he soon proved he was not a man she wanted to associate with anyway, and she was thankful they hadn’t done much more than kissing. She only hoped that Sandor was too distracted to notice the feel of them, as she had noticed his earlier. She didn’t think he would judge her like Harry had, but she didn’t want to take the chance. Not yet.

He popped the hooks from her bra easily enough, tossing the flimsy contraption aside. She gasped as he suckled at one nipple, clutching at his hair.  _By the gods, that feels good!_ She barely felt his fingers work the button and zipper to her pants, she was so entranced by his mouth on her breast. Trailing more kisses and nips across her chest, he worked his magic tongue on the other one as he pulled her pants and panties off, freeing her from their containment.  _He’s knocked everything BUT my socks off_ , she thought with a mad giggle. He kissed his way up back to her lips, but replaced his mouth with his hand on her breast. She sighed contentedly, loving how he was making her feel. Her eyes went wide when she felt his finger slid along her entrance. 

“My, my,” he whispered with a smirk. She couldn’t quite see it, but she knew it was there. She could  _hear_ it. “So wet for me already, girl?” He kissed her as he slid one finger in, soon followed by a second as his thumb played with that special spot above her entrance. She whimpered from want. He chuckled, “Don’t worry, I just want to make sure you’re good and ready for me. I’m a bit...bigger than most men. I don’t want to hurt you by going too fast for you.”

Her eyes had adjusted to the dark well enough that she could vaguely see his facial features, and more than enough to see that he was getting turned on by seeing his effect on her. “And I want to see you come for me,” he whispered possessively. She was happy to comply, allowing herself to let go and be free with him, her moans becoming louder as he worked his magic touch on her, his fingers sliding in and out of her and brought her closer and closer to that pinnacle. 

She gasped and cried out her delight as her body trembled from waves of pleasure around his fingers, her own hands gripping at his shoulders.

“Damn, girl,” he whispered in awe.

She smiled dreamily at him as the waves subsided and she floated back to earth. “Right back at you,” she said huskily.

He pulled away. For a moment, she thought she had done something wrong, but quickly realized he was only discarding the remainder of his clothing. Reaching to the nightstand beside the bed, he opened a drawer and pulled something out. She realized it was a condom when she heard the foil rip and felt a little silly for not having asked about that before letting him remove her clothing. She knew he was just trying to be safe, but at the same time... She wanted  _him_ , without any barriers, wanted to tell him that he didn’t need it, that she was on birth control, but she had to fight with her better judgement to remember that pregnancy wasn’t the only thing she could walk away with from the night’s encounter.  _If only I knew him a little better! Oh, though I guess that defeats the purpose of a one night stand…maybe, just maybe, he’d be interested in seeing me again?_

She heard him grumbling as he fumbled with the condom. “Let me,” she offered, taking it from him. He stood at the edge of the bed as she kneeled in front of him on it. Taking his cock in one hand, she placed the condom on the tip, and slowly rolled it down, stroking his member as she did so. He groaned with pleasure, making her grin.  _Shit, he wasn’t kidding when he said he was bigger,_ she thought.  _Joffrey’s isn’t even half this size, and Harry... I never let him take it out of his pants, but it never felt anything like this. Will this even fit? I mean, it has to fit, of course, but oh gods, he’s going to just fill me up, isn’t he?_ The thought increased that nice feeling in her abdomen. She couldn’t wait to feel him on top of her.

Kissing him, she guided him slowly back onto the bed to kneel in between her legs. Sandor kissed her gently, his cock in his hand as he guided it along her entrance. “Ready?” he asked.

“Oh gods yes,” she replied breathlessly. He chuckled as he teased her clit. Her fingers ran through the course hair on his chest, feeling the muscles.  _By the gods, he could probably break me into little pieces if he wanted to. That much strength behind a man being as gentle and considerate as him, maybe I should leave him my number?_

“Tell me if I need to go slower.”

“You have to put it in first,” she teased. He laughed heartily and pushed forward. He held himself above her, his strong arms holding her legs up as well as they were hooked around him at the knees. She was completely at his mercy. She pulled him down for a kiss. Tantalizingly slow, he pushed into her, causing her to gasp as he stretched her out. There was an intense pressure, but no pain. “Oh  _gods_ , but you feel good,” she whispered against his lips.

He laughed at that, “So do you. I might become addicted.” He kissed her collarbone, then her neck, then her chin, working his way up to her mouth until he was in all the way to the hilt. He pulled out just as slowly, reversing the placement of kisses, but stopped when just the head of his cock was inside her, and pushed back in. Slowly, so slowly, but building on that wonderful anticipating feeling. She moaned, her mind going blank. “You make the sexiest sounds. Has anyone ever told you that?” he asked.

She shook her head, unable to answer, she was enjoying his cock too much to be able to form coherent sentences, even single word ones, one hand entwined in the hair at the base of his neck and the other holding onto to his forearm, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Or maybe I’m the only one who’s made you moan so prettily? I like that idea. I like it a lot.” He was going faster now. She wrapped her legs around his body, locking her feet together, giving her extra leverage to meet his thrusts as her arms wrapped around his neck. She moved against him, with him, and it felt so right, so perfect, nothing like she had felt before. His mouth was right next to her ear, “I like how you’re gripping my waist with your thighs, how your cunt is pulling my cock in, how that erotic face you’re making is because of me. Seven hells, girl, you’re so  _damn_ tight.” 

Her climax was building again, so close. She wondered why he was talking so much, but at the same time, she liked it, liked hearing him describe it all in that low, husky voice of his. The deep rasp sent tingles all over her body. “Hells, I love how you cling to me, how you’re panting right in my ear. I’m the one doing that to you. You, the Maiden made flesh, now so wanton from my touch. You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it. I can feel you tightening around me.” He was deep in her as he said it, and when he withdrew, it was agonizingly slow again, even slower than before. She whimpered, afraid that he wouldn’t bring her to completion, as he pulled out so much, only the tip was barely,  _just barely_ , inside her. Suddenly, he was back inside her, a fast pace of in and out, in and out. She thought she might have been saying something but how could she possibly string two letters together when he was making her feel so good? Her orgasm roared through her, filling her from head to toe with pleasure, as she gripped his back, leaving a trail of nail marks. She thought she said his name as she clung desperately to him, but she wasn’t sure. He kept going, reaching for his own climax, bringing her into another one as he found it. “Oh  _fuck!_ ” he exclaimed.

He was breathing heavily, careful not to crush her under his impressive body. He rolled to the side, sliding out of her. She heard the  _pop_ from the condom and suddenly felt empty, first physically, and then emotionally when he left the bed. A light flicked on from the bathroom, and she thought she heard him utter, “Shit, that’s a lot of cum,” which made her giggle. One of his discarded shirts was nearby. Grabbing it, she pulled it over her head, eager to hide the scars. The shirt was huge on her, falling nearly to mid-thigh. It was heavy with his scent and she briefly contemplated taking it with her when she left.  _He just smells so nice._

She lay back on the bed, her fingers stroking the soft fabric as she contemplated her first sexual encounter since her time ‘off the grid’.  _That was nothing like Joffrey, thank the gods. That was actually enjoyable. I mean, he made me come first! Then twice more when he was inside me. Really should leave him my number..._

She heard the water in the sink run for a bit, then the light flicked back off and she soon felt the bed shift as he lay back down with her, pulling the covers up over them. She wondered about the proper etiquette on what happens next when he reached for her and pulled her into an embrace, her back to his chest. Her heart leapt as the empty feeling dissipated, and she got comfortable in his arms. She lay there, dozing on the edge of sleep and dreams, a name on her lips.  _Sandor. I am definitely leaving him my number._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...what do you think? Good, bad, so-so? One of my worries about writing smut is that it will end up being too similar to something I've written before, and come off as a copy and paste. So if you notice something like that, please let me know. Or if something about it just seems off. Not just about the smut, about anything in the story. I try really hard to write well, but it's hard to judge one's own work, simply because you are too close to it most of the time.
> 
> Anywho, I was inspired by the lovely [Jennilynn411](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennilynn411/pseuds/Jennilynn411) to start a contest, using the "First" game as the basis. If anyone else would like to use a similar contest on their own stories, I highly encourage it!
> 
> The premise is simple. 1st, 2nd and 3rd comments each get points. You don't need to write in "First", "Second", or "Third", you only need to leave a comment. You could write "LSKDJFhgoreuhfs9u" or "You suck at writing" and it would still count. My feelings would be hurt, but your comment would still be a valid entry. The only way your comment would not count is if you ask for it not to be considered for the contest, or if it's fourth or more.
> 
> 1st is worth 3 pts, 2nd is 2pts and 3rd is 1pt. Each chapter is an opportunity to win points. The contest ends on the second to last chapter. The final chapter will announce the winner in the End Notes. The 3 people with the most points win.  
> The prize is a one shot SanSan story, dedicated to the three winners. In addition, 1st place gets to suggest a prompt/situation, 2nd place gets to decide what level of rating and third...is to be determined...but all three get cameos! (Suggestions welcome) This contest will include the first three commenters of chapters 1 and 2, since I did encourage the game on those two. The fic is updated Monday through Friday, the posting times will be somewhere between midnight and 7am (Central Time Zone USA). Just to make it a little fairer to everyone. If there is a change in the update schedule, I will try to make a notice about it.
> 
> I know some people do not like the "First" game, for the reason that it bumps up the number of comments or it's disruptive to the author. If there are other reasons, I have forgotten them for now, and please feel free to tell me. For the comments, I propose that the first three commenters simply use the Edit button to add in comments instead of creating a new one, that way the number of comments is not affected by this. I believe that once someone replies to your comment, you can no longer edit it, so please refrain from replying to the first three comments until the users have had a chance to edit them. About disrupting the author, well, I'm proposing this contest, so clearly, I'm ok with the game. Lol. If you still don't want to play, well, that's your call. Read the fic or don't, play the game or don't. It's up to you. :) 
> 
> Good luck! And may the odds be ever in your favor! Whoops, wrong series. May the force be with you! Nope, still not right. Ten points to Gryffindor! Wait...I can do this... In the name of the Moon, I will punish you! Damnit...whatever, you get the idea.


	4. Sandor: Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Stay](https://youtu.be/JF8BRvqGCNs)

His heartbeat was erratic as he held the girl in his arms. _Sansa. Her name is Sansa_ . Taking a deep breath to calm down did no good. There was only her. Her scent. Her scent mixed with his. Their scent, mingling together. It was heady, but in a good way. The morning would bring an empty bed after she snuck off when he was dead asleep, but for now, he could hold her, pretend she was his. It was easy, and it helped that she was wearing one of his shirts. _Like a girlfriend would._ So easy to believe. _Sansa._ It was like a spell that held him captive.

When they had first gotten to his place, he had been worried about her reaction to Stranger. Most people felt intimidated by the large beast, but she had commanded his respect without even trying. Then there was the slight mishap with the condom. His nerves were starting to get the better of him and he had fumbled with it, but she saved him _and_ given him a bit of hand job at the same time. He was also incredibly grateful for the gag gift Bronn had given him for his last nameday, though the note that said “Dude, just go get some” had been annoying. Novelty though they were, the condoms were definitely a lifesaver tonight. He hadn’t been with a woman in so long, he wouldn’t have had _any_ condoms if not for those. _Grateful it was dark and she couldn’t see the stupid smiley face printed on them._ Last thing he had needed was to tell the goddess in his bed that he couldn’t do anything because of a lack of protection, or have her laugh her ass off at the sight of a goofy grin on his damn cock.

He felt her breathing even out. She was relaxed, her body was like putty after their fucking, and she seemed to like the cuddling. He had been pleasantly surprised when he came back into the bedroom and found her still in his bed, dressed only in his shirt. He had been bracing himself to find her dressed and ready for the ride back to the club or calling a cab.

 _When was the last time I enjoyed myself with a woman as much as I enjoyed being with her?_ He couldn’t remember. He had had only one real relationship before, if you could call it that, during his fighting days. As soon as he got hurt and was unable to fight, she had been gone. If he was being completely honest with himself, sex with Pita hadn’t been that great, just good enough to get them both off. He had tried really hard to please her, both as his girlfriend and in bed, but she hadn’t been that into it, unless he was buying her presents. _I honestly didn’t miss her._ He wondered if Sansa would like it if he bought her a present. Would she stay around? Was he willing to go through heartache of wanting a woman only to have her be superficially attracted to what he could give her? Again? _One day at a time, fool. She’ll probably be pushing you away any moment now anyway. Regretting that she stayed a while longer._ He didn’t like that idea and pulled her tighter to him, shoving his face into the crook of her neck. She squeaked. He immediately loosed his grip on her.

“No,” she murmured, turning her head slightly to face him, “you just startled me. I liked how you were holding me.” He pulled her close again and she sighed happily. “You have a nice embrace. I know that sounds weird, but I can’t express it any other way.”

“Glad you like it, then.” He wasn’t sure how else to respond to that, though it did make him happy to hear it.

“What do you do, Sandor?” she asked sleepily.

“What do you mean? Hobbies, work, other?”

“Hmmm...I guess….work, then hobbies, then whatever else.” She had started to trace little circles on his forearm. It kind of tickled, but he didn’t want her to stop.

“I was travelling for research purposes until a few months ago. Before that, I was, um, helping out at rehab clinic, doing odd jobs around the place, being a basic handyman.” _Half a truth. She doesn’t need to know it was occupational therapy._ “Before that, I was a fighter in the local MMA circuit.” He heard her giggle. “What? What’s so funny about that?”

She wiggled until he loosened his embrace and then turned around to face him, resting her head on his arm.  He moved so that he was now lying on his back and she was nestled in the crook of his arm. “It’s not funny per se. It’s just that I had been wondering about that, and it turns out I was right!” She placed her hand on his chest, letting it wander to his bicep and then back down to his abdominals. He instinctively flexed where her hand touched him.  “So much strength, and the way you move, and these scars,” she traced the one he had gotten from fighting the high school bullies with Bronn, “it was just so obvious you’re a fighter.”

“Not anymore, though I do still spar once a week with some buddies.” _She’s attracted to warriors then. I might have a fighting chance and I can’t believe I just thought ‘fighting chance’. Fucking Tyrion and his godsbedamned puns! Getting in my head…_

“So what do you do now?” she asked. Her hands were still wandering around, exploring his upper body.

“Unemployed at the moment. Trying to start my own business.” _Ok, NOW is when she’ll push me away. No woman wants to date a jobless bum. Granted, I’m financially stable enough to support myself for the next ten years without finding a ‘proper’ job, but she doesn’t know that._

“That sounds nice,” she said, scooting closer and nuzzling him. “Get to set your own hours, but it’s really hard work, too.” Her arm settled across his chest. He liked the weight of it.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You own a business?”

She laughed, “Oh gods no! I’d probably run it into the ground. I have no head for it. My parents have their own business. My dad runs it, usually, and he thoroughly enjoys it, but it’s taxing on him.”

“Ok, then what do you do?”

“I’m a writer,” she whispered. She sounded a bit embarrassed.

“Anything I’d have read?”

She shook her head. “Probably not. It’s not much, but it pays the bills, ya know?”

“Yeah, that I do know. You enjoy it, at least?”

“Yeah, best job I’ve ever had. Sometimes I get blocked, but it’s usually not for long.” She sounded really happy. _Must be a dream job._

She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “What was that for?” he whispered. She didn’t answer, and it took him a few moments to realize she had fallen asleep.


	5. Sansa: One More Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [One More Time](https://youtu.be/FGBhQbmPwH8)

Sometime during the night, he got up to let Stranger back in, and covered them both with a heavier blanket when he returned to the bed. He murmured in her ear, “Gods, I’m still so hard for you.” Her desire had rekindled as well as she sleepily watched him walk around naked, but it was much more languid than the first time. She reached into the drawer for the condom this time, helping him put it on again. The blankets were around them like a warm little cocoon, or a little nest.

Lifting her leg up and keeping it hooked on his arm, he entered her. His cock seemed to fill her more than previously, pushing more on that particular spot inside her. He whispered in her ear, “That’s it, darlin’, take me all in.” There was less talking this time, something she attributed to sleepiness, but she liked it like this as well because now there was kissing. So much more kissing, and damned if he wasn’t good at that, too. If earlier had been a fire that was stoked to an inferno, then now was a slow burn that ended with a sudden burst, as he kissed her, whispering every now and then, “Gods you’re so tight,” or “Yes, you like that, don’t you?”, and her favorite, the low moans he made, guttural and primal. He nibbled at the side of her neck, sending little zings down her spine, his hands exploring her body over the shirt she wore. It felt like hours and mere seconds at the same time. When she came, it was intensely pleasant, soothing, like a wave crashing over her, like she had come home. Deep sleep claimed her soon after.

**********

She woke up to the buzzing sound of her phone. For a moment, she wondered why her bedroom looked so different. She didn’t remember having a poster of AC/DC next to the window. For that matter, she didn’t remember having a window that large, or a view of a rather pretty forest. She felt movement at her waist, a hand pressing on her stomach, pulling her closer to a large, warm body. Her eyes flew open when she heard, “Not yet, girl. It’s too early,” in that raspy voice that fired up her desire. His morning wood pressed into her backside, fueling her need further. _Gods, he left me spent last night and I still want him again!_ She briefly wondered how he would react if she woke him up by impaling herself on his rigid cock. She smiled at the thought, but wasn’t feeling brave enough to try. _Hmm...maybe I could make him breakfast? Probably not, if I want him calling me again._

He must have been talking in his sleep, because he did not stir as she detangled herself from his arms and legs. The used condom was still on him, a grinning face printed on the head, she noticed with a mad giggle. _Oh my goodness! That’s hilarious! He was either out of regular condoms or has a seriously intense sense of humor._

Taking it carefully, she walked over to the restroom and tossed it into the trashcan next to its predecessor. She used the bathroom to clean herself up a bit, as well as get rid of the complaint from her bladder. She noticed a small hickey on her collarbone and smiled. Finding her clothing was easy. Getting her shirt back, however, was proving to be impossible, since Stranger had decided he liked her scent and was actively avoiding her while holding her shirt hostage. She was debating on how best to get her shirt back, when her phone buzzed again. Sandor still did not wake, and she was sorely tempted to just crawl back into bed with him. One night stand or not, that had been one of the best sleeps she had ever had, and she knew it had nothing to do with the vigorous activity that had preceded it, but the early morning phone messages should not be ignored. Checking her phone, she saw several messages from Margaery.

**12:55am Guuurrrrllll who waz that HOTTIE. btw rose left for you on doorstep. Your SA again.**

**1:42am San-you better have sum good stories!**

**1:48am Don’t ignore me! Did he have a big 8==D?**

**1:48am I guess it would be 8========D**

**1:50am Did you 8========D~~**

**:D :D ;D**

Sansa had to smother a laugh on that one. Then the next message, the one that had woken her up:

**6:15am San! Where are you??**

**6:23am Get to the gym! ASAP STAT RIGHT NOW! Cat is freaking out! No idea why!!**

She swore. ASAP was bad. STAT was worse. RIGHT NOW meant apocalypse. She sent a message back, **On my way.**

She looked over at Stranger, who had put his head down and gave her a look that said, “Mine now.” She sighed. That’s one of my favorite shirts, too. She found her hoodie and zipped it up over the borrowed t-shirt. “I will get that back later, dog,” she whispered to him, flipping her phone open to the maps app and then finding the number for a cab company. She gave them her location and they gave her an ETA of fifteen minutes.

Looking around, she found a pen and notepad and jotted down a quick message. She wanted to kiss him goodbye, but didn’t want to risk waking him. She smiled as she thought, _I DID keep him up rather late last night._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Margaery's texts were inspired by my best friend, who had a habit of randomly sending me ASCII penises. :/  
> Next update will be on Monday! Have a good weekend!


	6. Sandor: Stranger Is a Jerk

Sandor began to stir from slumber. His arm was draped over a warm body. He smiled at the memory of the previous night as he pulled her closer, his hand stroking the fur on her belly. _Wait a minute…_  He opened his eyes and swore, “Seven _HELLS_ , Stranger! Get off the bed!”

The great black dog eyed him for a moment, made a chuffing sound and lay his head back down on the pillow. Growling at his pet, Sandor flung the blanket to cover Stranger from muzzle to tail. Stranger chuffed again, the blanket moving slightly from the dog’s breath, but it was more content than Sandor would have liked. Getting up from bed, he wandered around his house, still naked, looking for signs of the woman he had brought home with him. “Sansa?” he called out. Silence was his only answer.

 _Shit, she did end up leaving without saying goodbye. Fuckin’ figures._ He went back to the bedroom to get dressed. Stranger had nosed his way out from under the blanket and watched him pull his sweatpants on. The black lummox sighed heavily and that was when Sandor noticed a white shirt snuggled in between Stranger’s front paws. Frowning, he reached for it, ignored Stranger’s warning growl, and pulled it away from the dog, narrowly escaping the biting teeth. He ignored Stranger getting up from the bed and heading into the living room to lounge on the couch as he studied the shirt. _This isn’t mine, this belongs to...her! Did she leave it here for me?_

He knew it was a foolish thought, but he couldn’t stop grinning, glad to have something, even as meager a reason as this, to give him hope of seeing her again. He threw the shirt in the clothes hamper. It smelled heavily of dog now, and he wanted to give it back to her cleaned. _But how to find her again? She said she was only at the club because her friends pressured her into going. Same as me. Double shit, I forgot to message Bronn._

Digging his phone out of the pants from last night, he turned it on and found a single message from his friend. He went into the living room and sat on the couch, absentmindedly scratched Stranger behind the ears as he read it.

**1:47am Sorry you couldn’t make it tonight. Got laid anyway. See you at the fight? My friend is one of the challengers.**

Sandor snorted. The only reason Bronn asked him to come along was to be his wingman for a particular girl. Neither Jaime nor Tyrion would do. Sandor had that knack for making his friends look good. His fingers touched the reconstructed side of his face, as he pushed the bitterness down. _Last night proved some women want more than just a pretty face._ The way she had looked at him, talked with him, how she had felt in his arms... he wanted more of that, not from just any woman, but from her. That little voice in his head whispered to him that it was just his cock she was after. She had certainly enjoyed that, he couldn’t deny it, but if that was all, why did she stay? He had woken up in the much later and found her still in his bed, snuggled against him and he had been sure she would push him away when he expressed an interest for round two, but she had met him with eager, if sleepy, enthusiasm. The voice whispered “No woman would want someone as ugly as you, dog.” _SHE might,_ he thought defiantly. _Elder Brother would be pleased by this determination, even if not by what caused it. If I can find her again, I will ask her out. That is a problem for later though._ He turned back to his phone and sent a quick reply, **When and where to meet?**

The response came before he had a chance to put down the phone, **7pm. My place. DON’T BE LATE**.

“Tch.” Late to Bronn was on time to everyone else. Tossing the phone onto the coffee table, he started towards the refrigerator, but frowned at the notepad and pen left in the middle of the kitchen counter. _I didn’t leave that there_. There was no message, only a torn top sheet and dog drool. Cursing, he ran over to Stranger, who was happily chewing on the missing piece of paper. He forced the dog’s jaws open and took the paper from him. Grimacing at the drool soaked paper, he carefully uncrumpled it and laid it out on the table, smoothing it out as best he could. In very feminine handwriting was her note to him:

 

 _Sandor,_  
_Didn’t want to wake you. Emergency came up,_  
_but I had a_ _great_ _time last night. We should do it_  
_again. ~_o (That’s supposed to be a winky face,_  
_btw. I suck at drawing) Also, Stranger refused to_  
_give me my shirt. Sooooo... I took yours as a_  
_hostage. If you want it back, call me!_  
_XOXOXO_  
_\--Sansa_  
_455-8_

  
The last three digits were torn off, probably in Stranger’s stomach. Sandor looked over at his dog, who had a very smug look on his face. _Damn cockblocking son of a bitch_.


	7. Sansa: Back to Basics

Sansa arrived at the Winterfell gym half an hour after reading Margaery’s text message. Normally, she wouldn’t even be awake at this time of day, not on The Big Day, but whatever was happening couldn’t be ignored.  _I’ll just grab a nap in the afternoon._

She slipped in the back way, changing into the spare clothes she kept in her locker. Sweeping her long hair into a tight bun, she went out into the main workout area. Her mother and acting manager, Catelyn Stark was pacing. Catelyn wasn’t normally involved in the day to day, living so far away at the Winterfell estate, but she always came to town for her children’s fights, though she never actually sat in the audience, preferring to stay in the locker rooms until it was all over. Sansa didn’t blame her. It could get gory out there. Her nose had a slight bump from when it was broken in her second fight. She had returned the favor to her opponent, who had stupidly blown her nose right after and caused even more problems. 

Petyr Baelish, who acted as a financial advisor to the gym, sat on the edge of the desk that was next to the practice octagon ring. He stood up straighter as she approached, but she ignored him.  _I really don’t get what Aunt Lysa sees in him. He looks like a sexual predator with that mustache and sly smile._

“Mother? What’s wrong?”

Catelyn looked up, “My dear girl, something awful has happened! Look!” She handed Sansa a tabloid paper.

Baelish came up behind her, saying right in her ear, “It’s a PR nightmare. Supposedly, Joffrey Lannister was beaten to a pulp by an unknown assailant at your behest.”

Sansa’s skin crawled from his close proximity and she inched away from him. She read the article in full, feeling disappointment after reading it. It was nowhere near as dire as she had expected.  _I could still be in bed with Sandor right now!_ “Mother, you are overreacting! There’s barely a mention of me in here. It doesn’t even list my name, just a vague description that may or may not be me. We were long gone before this even took place.”

“Who is 'we'?” Catelyn asked, tilting her head in motherly curiosity. “There was someone with you?”

Sansa gulped. “Well, yes, a friend of a friend, gave me a ride home.”  _Just not my home_ , she thought.

“A friend of which friend?” Catelyn pressed. Sansa closed the paper and handed it back to her mother.

“I’m not sure, Margaery’s, I think. Maybe Bronn’s. If not, Mar can find out.”  _I need to get Mar to cover for me. Where is she anyway? I thought she would be here._

As if reading her thoughts, Catelyn said, “She went out to grab some coffee for everyone. I’ll speak with her later, before she heads over to help with the setup.”

Sansa nodded.  _Forgot about that. Guess I can either text her details or wait until I see her tonight. She’ll probably want to hear about it straight from me, that might not be until after my fight though._ “Um, I guess I’ll just do a light workout for now, then?” Her mother nodded absentmindedly, having already gone back to re-reading the paper. Sansa grabbed her handwraps, wrapping as she walked. It was her favorite part, the familiar motions soothing her slightly freyed nerves. She had customized them herself, so that her fighting sigil could be seen on them once she was done. She sighed, letting the frustration and nervousness leave her body as she exhaled. She had been expecting brimstone and fire raining down, not a light mist.

As she was stretching and warming up, she thought,  _Hmm, should I start with strikes or takedowns? Arya should be around here somewhere. Maybe just work on acrobatics?_

“Would you like me to hold gloves for you?” Baelish said from behind her. She whirled around, reflexively going into her defensive stance. Her mother was engrossed in the paper again and had not noticed he wasn’t beside her anymore. He had no idea about this part of the business, and only offered to get closer to her. He had never done anything overtly inappropriate, nothing she could take to her mother as proof of ill intentions, but she had the feeling he would if she gave him even the slightest inclination.

“No, but thank you,  _uncle_ Petyr.” She hated that her manners were so ingrained sometimes. She wished she could be more like Arya in situations like this, but Baelish wasn’t like Joffrey, and she couldn’t just tell him to bugger off. _Could I? Mother would get mad though._

“Please, call me Petyr, sweetling. I’ll happily volunteer to let you practice your takedowns on me. Anything to help the future champ.” She wanted to believe him, if only because he was her mother’s friend, but the look in his eyes said he wanted to help himself to her. 

“Don’t worry Creepy McStalkerson, I’ve got this,” Arya said, appearing from out of nowhere and shoving a jumble of equipment into Baelish’s hands. “But if you really want to help, you can sort, clean and store this stuff. You know, for the future champ.” She grinned at her big sister and gave her a wink. Baelish muttered something that sounded a lot like  _nosy brat_ and stalked off to rejoin their mother. “San, you really need to tell him off one of these days. He’s just going to keep coming after you,” Arya admonished her. 

“I know, but...I get the feeling he would like it if I did that. He looks like the kind of guy who’s into both dominating and being dominated, ya know?” Sansa said with a frown. Arya burst out laughing.

“Oh-em-gee, San, you are so right! Yeah, never tell him off. Just a swift kick to his groin if he gets fresh with you. No guy would want that, unless they’re super-masochistic. One of your kicks though...dude would have to be super-de-duper-masochistic.” They both giggled. Arya held up a kick pad for Sansa. As she alternated between punches and kicks, Arya asked about the previous night. “So that guy you went home with…”

Sansa frowned, “Yeah? What about him?”

“Did you...” Arya looked around, seeing if their overprotective mother was nearby. Not willing to take the chance that she was, Arya continued, “Did you... _you know?_ ” She waggled her eyebrows in what Sansa supposed was a suggestive manner, but she burst out laughing, it was just so silly.

“You mean, did I go home with him and let him fuck me?” Sansa asked, but paused her practice to immediately looked around for their mother as well. Arya giggled. Sansa grinned broadly, “If that is what you meant, then yes I did, and it was amazing!”

“Good for you! I was starting to get worried you were going to join a convent or something.” Arya dodged Sansa’s next strike, rolling to the side and attempting to take her sister off-guard. Sansa stopped her with a well placed kick and resumed striking.

“I had to leave before he woke up. I wanted to wake him, but at the same time, he hadn’t had much sleep... I left a note with my number. Oh, and his dog stole my shirt.”

“Wait, what?” Arya froze, allowing Sansa to knock her off balance, but Arya rolled with the punch into a backwards somersault and landed on her feet, ready to take the next strike.  _She is so much like a cat,_ Sansa thought, not for the first time.

As she continued her assault, Sansa said, “Yeah, it was my favorite Dolph Lundgren shirt, too. You know the one, from that fundraising campaign he did.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a good shirt. So what happened this morning? You didn’t even get a little wake-up nookie?” Arya waggled her eyebrows again. “It’s kind of the best.”

Sansa laughed. “Sadly, no. First, I get the text from Mar, telling me a shitstorm is about to rain down, then as I’m getting dressed, I find that his dog has claimed my shirt for his new chew toy! I tried to get it back, but he’s this great beast of a dog and wouldn’t let go. Reminds me a little bit of Nym, but a bit friendlier. You’d like him. Rather than risk taking more time to cajole it from him, I left it there. I had borrowed one of his shirts to sleep in, so I just kept it on, zipped up my hoodie and jacket to the top and left like that.”

“Best walk of shame story ever! And that’s counting the time the Jeynes ran into each other walking out of Robb and Theon’s rooms! I can’t wait to tell Mar. She’s going to love it. Oh, she finally got with Bronn last night.”

“Good, the way they’ve been dancing around each other has been maddening. I was-- Arya!” she yelled, narrowly escaping the sudden charge of her younger sister. She pulled Arya into the fall with her, so that they tumbled together. Sansa landed on top as Arya grinned at her, her fist poised for a strike.

“Gotta keep you on your toes, San! Or else you’ll never beat The Mad Swann.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe she uses that name. She’s not even graceful.” Sansa rose from the mat and offered her sister a hand up.

“Like yours is all that great,” Arya scoffed, accepting the hand.

“Better than The Mad Swann,” she grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be going out of town for a few days. Theoretically, the story will update as normal.


	8. Sandor: The (Little) Bird and the Worm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right-click to open in new window/tab, these links are relevant about midway through the chapter.  
> MC Hammer - [Can't Touch This](https://youtu.be/otCpCn0l4Wo?t=16s)  
> Macklemore & Ryan Lewis - [Can't Hold Us](https://youtu.be/2zNSgSzhBfM?t=32s)

Sandor cursed loudly as he tripped over a child’s toy that had been left outside, startling an elderly woman that reminded him of his Nana. He apologized sheepishly and ran down the sidewalk to his best friend’s apartment.

He was greeted by a less than stoked Bronn. “What did I tell you? Seven p.m. Not seven-oh-five.”

Sandor rolled his eyes. “Calm your tits. First, it’s seven-oh-one. Second, there was traffic. Couldn’t help that. We going or what?”

“Yeah, let’s take my truck though.” Bronn grabbed his keys.

“What, you don’t wanna ride on the back of my bike? Let your big strong arms encircle my torso, your manly hands caress my chest? I’m hurt.” Sandor grinned.

“About as much as you want my cock pressed into your backside. Oh, sorry Mrs. MacMillon.” Sandor turned to see the same little old lady he had passed only a few minutes ago. She frowned at the two of them.

“Goodness, even if you were straight, that is no way to talk to someone in public!” she admonished them. “I thought the gays were supposed to be nice?”

Bronn couldn’t help but smirk as Sandor’s jaw dropped. “Yeah, honey, you should be nicer to me.”

“I was talking about _you,_ Mr. Blackwater. You have a very polite boyfriend here, who was only asking for a little affection. No harm in that.” She pointed at Sandor, “And you shouldn’t take this kind of crap from him, I don’t care how much you love him. It is unacceptable.”

It was Sandor’s turn to smirk as Bronn gaped at his neighbor, but he just grinned at the woman, “Ahem, Mrs. MacMillion, I think you’re a bit mistaken over our relationship. We’re just friends that have known each other way too long, both as straight as can be. Bronn here has a girlfriend, and I...well, I’m hoping to find the right lady.”

“Oh! I beg your pardon then. I know a girl, nice gel I used to babysit for. Most polite girl I ever met. She’d be about twenty-three, twenty-four now. I can give her a call, if you’d like.” The woman looked up at him expectantly.

Sandor tried to suppress a grin. He was reminded again of his Nana. She had tried to play matchmaker to him too, with a girl who used to live from down the street from her. “Ah, I actually have a specific lady in mind, but if it doesn’t work out with her, I’ll let you know.”

“Alright. Good luck to you. And keep it down tonight. I have my stories to catch up on. Roman Reigns is fighting for the WWE championship in a semi-final match against Del Rio, and then against the winner of the Ambrose/Owens match.”

“You mean Survivor Series? Wasn’t that from last Sunday?” Bronn asked. Sandor nodded.

She shrugged. “I missed it, but I have a subscription to their streaming service, so I can still watch it. My bridge club had a week long Volantis-style poker tournament to attend in the Westerlands. Only got back this morning. You did remember to feed my cats and clean out their litterbox, didn’t you, Mr. Blackwater?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

Bronn colored a bit, but sheepishly said, “Yes, I did.”

She looked at Sandor again. “You know, you have a strong resemblance to Reigns, now that I see you properly. If I was sixty years younger… Anywho, no spoilers!” she said as she walked off to her door. “Goodnight, boys.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. MacMillion,” they said in unison. Bronn locked the door, and they headed to his truck.

“You have interesting neighbors,” Sandor commented as he slid into the passenger seat.

“She’s tame compared to the Martells, the ones on the other side of me.”

**********

It was more crowded than he expected, considering this wasn’t a broadcasted UFC match. Sandor was grateful that Bronn had used his connections to get them ringside seats. His usual choice of cheap seats wouldn’t have been wise on a night like tonight.

“I’m surprised there’s so many people here,” he said over the hum of the crowd.

“Oh yeah, you’ve been out of the loop for a while, haven’t you? There’s three exceptional fighters tonight. All trained at Winterfell, and one of them is that friend of mine I mentioned, also a friend of Mar’s. Well, Robb and Rickon are friends as well, but I’m closer with Alayne. She’s undefeated, though she’s only had a handful of fights. I’ve seen every single one, and she was something special. She’ll be sitting with us after her fight, gonna go see her in the locker room after. There’s another fight between hers and Robb’s, but I’m ok with skipping it if you are.”

“I’ll think about it. Probably stay here though. Is your girl a fighter, too?” Sandor asked curiously. Bronn usually went for the girly girls.

“Nah, though she’s spunky enough, but she says she’s worried about breaking her nose and making it look even more pig-like.” Bronn shook his head. “If she’s got a pig-nose, then I’m a long lost Targaryen. She trains at Winterfell, but it’s because she’s friends with the Starks. She’s one of the ring girls. Look, over there, the one waving at us.” He pointed at a woman with light brown hair waving fanatically. _Right, that's the girl he cozied up to last night._ She was wearing some of the smallest shorts he had ever seen and a matching tube top that accentuated her ample bosom. He couldn’t help but think of another girl, who was more covered up, but who he found infinitely more alluring than this minx. She spoke to someone next to her and was soon walking towards them. She planted herself onto Bronn’s lap, the man’s arm wrapping possessively around her waist as she kissed him in greeting.

“Bronny! You made it, and this must be Sandor?” She turned to him, giving him an odd look. “I know you...where do I know you from?”

“Might have seen him around events like these, love,” Bronn said, “Though he’s been away for a year. Only returned to town a few months ago.”

“No, that’s not it… Oh! You’re the one that left the club early last night!” she exclaimed in recognition.

“You were there?” Bronn asked, turning to him. “I thought you didn’t make it.”

“I did, but you were already wrapped around this one, so I just hung back and chatted up a girl at the bar.” He fidgeted. “Didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s alright. I’m assuming you had fun with her?” Margaery asked with a coy smile.

Sandor frowned at the familiarity she was exhibiting towards him. “Not that it’s really your business, but yes.” Sandor crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I just wish I was able to contact her again.” He muttered that last part to himself, but Margaery heard it anyway.

“You...didn’t get her number?” she asked cautiously.

“She left it, but my dog got to it before I did,” Sandor replied grumpily. “Ate part of the note she left me. I swear he did it on purpose.”

“Oh my! Well, I’m sure she’ll turn up eventually. If it’s meant to be, you know. In the meantime, our friend Alayne is in the third fight of the night. I had to put the beat down on the others to be the first ring girl for that one. Look forward to it!” she said before kissing Bronn and flouncing off.

Sandor stared after her. “She’s got a screw loose.”

Bronn grinned, watching her leave, “Don’t be a sourpuss. She’s just friendly and extremely supportive of her friend. And dat ass, umph.”

Sandor rolled his eyes, hoping the matches would start soon.

**********

The first two matches were a bit of a disappointment, though he wasn’t that surprised. At this level, it was a common occurrence. The fighters spent more time circling each other than anything else, though one guy, a newbie with a reputable name had been interesting, attempting to bring the fight to his opponent, but the other man, older and more experienced, had been quick to dance out of reach. It did him little good and only dragged out the match, with the win ultimately going to the younger fighter. _Rickon Stark. Guess he’s following in his family’s footsteps. Bad luck to be fighting that downer of a fighter._ At eighteen years of age, Rickon was one of the youngest to qualify for the night.

Finally, the match he had received so much hype on began. “Can’t Touch This” by MC Hammer played over the speakers. The first fighter bounded into the arena, taking a victory lap by the looks of it. She strode over to the officials, who checked her for being up to standards before entering the ring and wiped that Vaseline crap onto her face to prevent cuts. _Don’t know why they even use that stuff. I swear it never worked for me,_ Sandor thought. He had always hated it when they touched his face.

The announcer, a wannabe Bruce Buffer from the sound of it, boomed into his microphone, “In the white shorts, the favorite in this match, ‘The Mad Swann’, weighing in at one-hundred and thirty-five pounds, Jeynnnnnnnnnne Swann!” A large, muscular dark blond woman wearing cornrows in her hair ran into the octagon, circling the cage. Her outfit consisted of snug spandex shorts, white with black swans on the sides, and a matching sports bra.

“ _She’s_ one-thirty-five?” Sandor asked in disbelief.

“She made weight.” Bronn shrugged. “But, no, probably not now. Daughter to Balon Swann,” he whispered to Sandor. “She’s not as honorable as her father, and has _earned_ the nickname ‘Mad’. The bitch is crazy. She’s got eight wins and two losses. Her opponent is the one we’re rooting for, the underdog.”

Hammer’s lyrics were cut short and replaced by “Can’t Hold Us” by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, the music video version, if he wasn’t mistaken. The crowd started getting more rambunctious. Clearly, this woman was a fan-favorite. “In the black shorts, the undefeated underdog, weighing in at one-hundred and twenty-nine pounds, Alayne ‘The Aerial Assassin’ Stone!”

“Undefeated underdog? Aerial Assassin?” Sandor asked, as a much thinner, but still muscular brown-haired woman walked with purpose into the arena space and up to the officials who checked and gelled her before entering the ring. She bowed at the octagon’s entrance and then circled the ring, her hair in two french braids that ended in a single bun at the base of her neck. She looked like she was running on air, her feet barely touched the mat. _I guess that explains the ‘aerial’ bit. Like a little bird, about to take on a vulture._

“Yeah, she’s only had three fights prior to this one. Her debut was that first one you missed. She’s still an unknown variable, and it’s a catchy tagline.” Bronn didn’t take his eyes of the women in the octagon. “As for the nickname, well, you’ll see.” Bronn grinned broadly. “Check it out, they’re starting.” Margaery was walking on the apron of the ring, holding up the ROUND 1 sign.

Sandor turned his attention back to the octagon. He kept his eyes on the little bird, curious if this “undefeated underdog” could possibly take on the much larger woman who clearly needed to be something higher than the bantamweight division.  She was wearing black, loose fitting shorts that nearly went down to her knees, and a dull yellow spandex shirt, with a small design in black on the center chest, too small to see properly from this distance, though it was a pattern of three, whatever it was. _Kind of looks like my old logo, but much smaller._

She was bouncing from foot to foot, her limbs warm and loose, ready to start the match. That’s when he saw them. Sandor stared at the scars that just barely peeked out beneath her sleeves and the ones streaking up and down the side of her left leg. _Fuck, that’s not from just three official fights. What the hell happened to this girl?_

They were brought to the center of the ring. Both declined touching gloves and the bell rang. The difference between the two fighters was made evidently clear. Both women charged at each other, but it was the little bird who had the upperhand. _Literally,_ Sandor thought, as he watched her fly into the air, striking with a kick to the other woman and dodging the counterstrike. Swann was knocked back a few steps and the little bird did not let up. She ducked under a wide swing of Swann’s arm, used the cage walls as a springboard and did a spinning kick into the side of Swann’s head as the woman turned to face her quicker opponent. Swann tried to counter, but the little bird was like lightning and blocked most of them easily. One landed to the little bird’s chest, however, and another grazed her cheek. At best, they only slowed her down, and even then, not by much. She was able to turn her opponent’s strikes into an opportunity, grabbing the woman’s arm and knocking her down with a strong sweep of her legs. They grappled, it was hard to see exactly what what going on, but it was clear that Swann was trying to fight whatever the little bird was attempting. She soon had Swann in an armbar. The larger woman tried to break it, strained against it, but it was too much for her, and she tapped out right as the little bird dislocated the shoulder, her cry of pain piercing through the roar of the crowd. The referee pulled the little bird away and the ring-side maesters ran in to tend to Swann. "Armbars are kind of her specialty," Bronn told Sandor.

The little bird stood there, her chest heaving, eyes on the mat. Her lip was bleeding, as well as a cut on her cheek. Sandor blinked and looked at the timer. _Only forty-six seconds, shit, she’s incredible._

The ref came and held up her hand in victory as The Mad Swann stood sullenly on his other side. The Bruce-wannabe made the announcement, ”And winner by submission, still undefeated, Alayne ‘The Aerial Assassin’ Stone!”

She looked up, looked right at him it seemed, staring with her beautiful, blue eyes. His jaw dropped, he would know those eyes anywhere. _Sansa?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All best are off on the time of day that I update while I am on vacation :) Sorry if you're disappointed about the Mad Swann, but she's technically an original character. I needed to find another woman to fight but there's not exactly a lot to choose from. And I needed her to be not nice so the Mormont women were out. 
> 
> This is my favorite chapter. Hopefully, I didn't lose you when the action started. I'm still working on my skills with action scenes. Also...I may have modeled MMA Sansa after Rowdy Ronda Rousey... Just a little bit. 
> 
> Second also, I don't know why, but Sandor's grandmother became Nana... I called my paternal grandmother "Granma" and my maternal grandmother "Bita" (short for "Abuelita" because little kids can't pronounce things properly), so seriously, I have no idea where "Nana" came from.
> 
> And I couldn't help myself, I envisioned Sandor to look like Roman Reigns, but I have no idea how to make a picset, so the reference was just thrown in there. I really don't want Mrs. MacMillion to find out what happened at the end of the Survivor Series event...I imagine she has a huge crush on Reigns.


	9. Sansa: Glad You Came

Sansa stared at the note in disgust, then angrily smashed it into a ball. She was grateful that her mother had already left to go see to Robb. She pulled her phone out, checking it for what seemed like the thousandth time, hoping to see a message from Sandor. She stuffed the phone and the note in her jacket pocket before picking it up when she heard the door open behind her.

“You have some fans to see you,” Margaery announced, poking her head in through the doorway. “You decent enough to meet them?”

Sansa pushed her negative thoughts away and smiled at her friend. “Almost done,” she said as she shrugged on her hoodie. She could hear Margaery _tsk_ at her for covering up her scars, but she ignored it. “You have good timing.”

Margaery shrugged and said with a grin, “One of my many talents. Come on in, fellas.” Bronn ran in and swept Sansa up into a hug. She felt herself flinch slightly, but Bronn didn’t notice.

“You were amazing, sweetheart! A new record, ain’t it?”

“Thanks, Bronn. I wanted to use that new move you taught me, but I didn’t have a chance,” she said shyly, pushing a lock of freshly washed hair behind her ear. The temporary brown dye had mostly washed out, but she would thoroughly rinse it again once she got home.

Bronn waved her fear away. “No worries, gives you more time to perfect it before knocking your opponent out. Oh, I’ve got someone I want you to meet. He’s been my best friend for too many years now, and he was very impressed with your performance.” She turned to greet the man. “Sansa, I’d like you to meet--”

“Sandor!” she squealed and launched herself into his arms. He laughed as he caught her, and then blushed as she planted a kiss firmly on his lips. She felt a slight twinge from the cut on her lip but ignored it. “What on earth are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly. She hadn’t meant to kiss him, had wanted to play it cool the next time she saw him, but her excitement had overruled those plans. He hadn’t pushed her away, and he seemed happy to see her, which gave her hope that their one night stand wouldn’t remain that way.

“I see you two know each other,” Bronn said in a flat voice behind them. Sansa turned to see him frowning, though Mar looked like she wanted to squeal with delight.

“Yeah, we met last night,” she said. Unconsciously, she let her mask slide into place and asked, “Is there something wrong with that?”

Both Bronn and Margaery saw the change. Mar elbowed Bronn, who shifted uncomfortably. “No, of course not. Why don’t we all get out of here? The last fight of the night should be starting in about fifteen minutes, and I know you’re excited to see that one. We should have enough time to grab snacks or something.” Bronn gave her a desperate smile, his eyes pleading with her.

She blinked, and the mask fell. Cursing herself mentally for falling back on the old habit, she nodded at Bronn and said, “Of course. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa wants to be cool, but she's really not. :D  
> Happy Thanksgiving to everyone celebrating it!


	10. Sandor: If You Wannabe My Lover, You Gotta Get With My Friends

“What was that about?” Sandor asked Bronn as the ladies excused themselves to the restroom.

“What was what about?” Bronn responded airily as he leaned against the wall. Sandor narrowed his eyes as him.

“You know exactly what I’m referring to, but just to refresh your memory: your displeasure of finding out Sansa knew me already, and then that look of fear in your eyes when she questioned you about it,” he hissed.

Bronn frowned again, his jaw set stubbornly. Sandor was about to grab him by the collar, his patience had worn thin, when Bronn spoke, “It wasn’t about you personally. Sansa...it’s not my place to tell you the entire story, but suffice it to say, she’s had a rough time with men in the past. I’ve known her a long time, and since her father had his accident, I’ve been even more of an older brother to her. Sorry, but my protective nature always come roaring to the forefront whenever she’s approached by the opposite sex.” He sighed heavily. “She’s a grown woman, I know, but I can’t help it. Though, if she’s going to date anyone, you’re a great choice for her, now that I think about it.”

Sandor studied his friend, finding no lies in his speech, and allowed himself to relax. “Thanks, I think, for that vote of confidence. Why have I never heard you mention her before?”

“You have. I used to call her Red.”

“The scaredy cat you used to live next door to?” Sandor asked incredulously.

Bronn chuckled, “Yeah, that’s her. Technically, I lived at her home. Mom worked for her parents and we lived on-site. Like I said, I’ve known her a long time. Her dad practically raised me, even offered to take me in when my mom passed. My aunt came for me though, which is just as well, since I ended up meeting your sorry ass. She wrote me for a while, remember?” Sandor nodded. Bronn became solemn. “We fell out of touch for a long time. Only reconnected with her again a few years ago. Sansa’s a good girl, who deserves better than what she’s gotten. You better take good care of her, else I’ll have to break your legs.”

“We haven’t been on an actual date yet, not sure she wants more than what we’ve already had.” Bronn scoffed and muttered _With that greeting?_ but Sandor ignored him. “And the fear?” he asked as casually as possible.

Bronn looked down at his shoes. “That rough time I mentioned? She had a coping mechanism, calls it her ‘mask.’ Her armor. She shuts down when she wears it. Scares the hell out of me whenever she uses it now, though it’s not as often as it used to be. I’m not sure she’s even aware of it half the time. It’s useful in the certain situations, but outside of those... Like I said, scares the hell out of me. She's not the little sister we all know and love when she dons it.”

Margaery jumped in front of them, with Sansa trailing behind shyly. “What are you two talking about?”

Sandor watched Sansa as she walked over to him. Her lip had split near the corner of her mouth, a small scab already forming. He wondered if it had hurt her when she kissed him earlier. The cut she had received on her cheek had been treated, but a bruise was still forming around it. She still looked beautiful to him. 

“Oh, you know, boys, hairstyles, what color we should paint our nails,” Bronn said with a grin. Margaery looked down at the man’s fingernails, then slowly trailed her eyes back up, a coy smile on her face.

“Midnight Blue, my sweet, with a french twist in your hair. I’ll deck you out later tonight. For now, I think I hear the intro music. Let’s go!” She grabbed his hand and tore off to the arena.

Sandor shook his head as he watched them.

“Mar’s a bit energetic, but she’s a good person,” he heard beside him. He looked down at Sansa, who was holding her hands in front of her, worrying the cuffs of her sleeves. Today it was a blue hoodie, though he noticed the sneakers were still the green ones.

“Aren’t you hot in that thing? Well, you’re always hot, I guess I mean warm.” He grinned as she blushed and shook her head, grinning back up at him. He had been working on that line since he had seen her in the locker room.

“I’m used to it, get cold without it actually. We should probably get in there. I really don’t want to miss a minute of this one,” she said.

He offered her his hand, and walked her to their seats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a good weekend!


	11. Sansa: I Want To Hold Your Hand

Sansa really _was_ looking forward to the fight, but now that Sandor was sitting beside her, she was having a hard time concentrating. She kept sneaking peeks at him, was itching to grab a hold of him and kiss him again. Arya and Gendry had joined them. Her eyes had gone wide at seeing Sandor, but she didn’t need to ask when she saw Sansa leaning into him. She wasn’t sure Arya wouldn’t embarrass her, but thankfully, her sister only grinned and made an obscene gesture in reference to Sandor. Sansa rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Arya, but smiled happily after that. She looked up at Sandor, who hadn’t noticed anything. He was speaking to Bronn about something, though he held her hand the entire time. _This is unbelievable, I never expected to see him here!_

The lights above the audience dimmed, and the two fighters made their way out to their respective intro music. Sansa cheered as Braun the announcer screamed Robb’s name into his microphone.

The fight was scheduled for five rounds of five minutes each, but Robb “The Young Wolf” ended it ten seconds into the third round, with a single punch knockout to Ramsey “The Flayer” Snow, better known by his unofficial nickname, The Bastard of the North. Robb had been toying with him in the previous rounds, baiting him, and allowing a moderate amount of hits in, but always keeping it going at his pace, not Ramsey’s.

Robb had been at war with the Bastard, even clashing with him at the weigh-in the previous night, where they had to be physically separated by the head of the local division, Jory Cassel.

Sansa loved to watch her brothers in the octagon, though not as much as she loved watching Arya. Their styles were all so different and just fascinating. The only thing everyone in her family had in common was their lightning speed.

Even Bran, though his wasn’t in the octagon. Bran had wanted to join in the family business too, but his first day at practice was also his last. He had tried so hard, but by the end of it, had decided it wasn’t for him. He still wanted to participate, and had become the official researcher/assistant manager for the Stark team, watching videos of upcoming opponents, keeping track of stats and letting the fighters know what their opponents strengths and weaknesses were before their training camps began.

Jon, their cousin/adopted brother, had trained with Robb, Theon and Bronn, but before his first fight, he had been scouted by an agent and was currently the hottest new action star in Hollywood. He had once told Arya and Sansa that his dream was to become the top fight choreographer in the business. Sansa looked forward to each of his movies, even the ones where his part was no more than five minutes of screen time, though those were becoming more rare as his popularity soared. Theon, the second adopted brother, hadn't been interested in making a name for himself in the ring, but he was fast becoming a name in music industry, though he was often out of town and unable to attend every match his siblings were in. Bronn had set up a streaming video just for him, and Sansa was sure that Theon was watching intently and cheering loudly along with the rest of them, no matter where he was in the world.

Robb’s fight had been the last one of the evening. The crowd dissipated slowly. She walked out with Sandor, timidly brushing her knuckles against his, trying to work up the courage to hold his hand again. He chuckled when she finally did it, but didn’t say anything. Bronn, who was flanked by the starry-eyed Margaery, was keeping the conversation going without their help and had no indication of stopping.

“--and then that power punch, which I helped him develop, I might add. Robb is going to dominate his first UFC bout, I just know it.”

“Mother’s going to meet with the recruiter next week to finalize the details,” Sansa told them. “She’s kind of nervous about it. Dad would usually do this sort of thing, and then Uncle Benjen, but…” she trailed off. Sandor looked like he wanted to ask about it, but Bronn jumped in.

“Well, I can help her out, be a second in command. I’ll talk to her about it on Monday,” Bronn said cheerfully.

**********

"So you're a friend of Bronn?" she asked when they finally had a moment alone. Margaery had gone off with Bronn to get the cars. Her friend had given her a conspiratorial wink before dragging Bronn into the vast parking lot. 

He nodded. "I was supposed to meet him at the club to be his wingman, help him impress a lovely brunette he had been chasing after. I was late, and he was already wrapped up with her by the time I got there. Then I saw you..."

"And I know where the story goes from there," she grinned. The smile was replaced by nervousness with her next question, "Did you get my note?" She held her breath.

He nodded again, "Unfortunately, Stranger got to it first. He ate part of it."

She blinked in disbelief. "He ate it?"

"Yup. Just part of it, the part with your phone number." He shook his head. "I think he was mad at me for taking your shirt away from him."

She burst into laughter. "You're kidding!"

"I wish," he said, smiling. "I would have called you earlier if I had been able to."

"Really?" she asked coyly. "How much earlier?" She trailed her hand up his arm, leaning close to him. 

"As soon as I found it," he said, watching her in a daze. She grinned, liking the effect she was having on him. She reached into his pants pocket, smiled at his sharp intake of breath, and pulled his phone out. He let out a disappointed sigh and she giggled at that. She opened his phone and imput her information into a new contact. 

"There, now you can call or text me. Texting is better, to be honest, but I will answer your calls any time," she promised, handing it over to him.

He stared at the phone, seemingly amazed at it. She couldn't figure out why, and didn't have time before Margaery pulled up, followed by Bronn in his truck.

"Let's go!" Bronn yelled. "Some of us have work in the morning."

Sansa rolled her eyes, but kissed Sandor on the cheek. "Call me, text me, just don't be a stranger," she said before getting into Margaery's car.


	12. Sandor: Go On And...Kiss The Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you want her  
> Look at her, you know you do  
> It’s possible she wants you, too  
> There is one way to ask her  
> It don’t take a word  
> Not a single word  
> Go on and [ask] the girl [out]
> 
> Sing with me now  
> Sha-la-la-la-la-la  
> My, oh, my  
> Look at the boy too shy  
> He ain’t gonna [ask] the girl  
> Sha-la-la-la-la-la  
> Ain’t that sad  
> Ain’t it shame, too bad  
> You gonna miss the girl  
> **********  
> Sorry, that [song](https://youtu.be/tXmLRHnoSAs) got stuck in my head.

Sandor was quiet on the ride back to Bronn’s. He was keenly aware of the phone in his pocket. The phone she had taken from him, made him feel like a green boy when she had reached into his pocket and his body had reacted. The phone that now held her number, clearly labeled “Sansa”. He had already gone back in and added in a nickname.  _She must have been nervous too, if she forgot to put her last name._ He smiled to himself, glad that he had finally decided to not skip one more match. If he had, he would still be looking for the girl who fit the t-shirt. His own little Cinderella. It felt more than a bit surreal, especially the kiss on the cheek. The cheek on the ruined side.  _She kissed it without hesitation. Did she even notice?_ He hadn’t really felt it, not physically since the nerves had been too badly damaged, but it had sent his brain into overload and he was unable to respond at all before she got in her friend’s car and they drove away.

Now sitting in the cab of Bronn’s truck, he itched to pull the phone out and send her a text message, but he didn’t want to seem too eager.  _Just a few more minutes._ He distracted himself by reviewing the events of the evening. There was something odd about the conversation she and Bronn had had earlier. He couldn’t figure out what it was though. He hadn’t been paying too close attention at the time, distracted by her proximity and the fact that he felt little tingles of electricity every time her skin grazed his, and his hand was still tingling from where she had held it.

“You should text her. Ask her out on a proper date,” Bronn said suddenly.

Surprised by the suggestion, Sandor raised an eyebrow. “Ok?”

“I’m serious. She’s into you. I know you’ve been burn--, uh,  _unlucky_ with women in the past, but Sansa’s not like that. I don’t know why I didn’t think to introduce you two sooner. You’d be good for her, and her for you. Oh, she loves action movies, but is seriously into high fantasy shit. I’m talking Lord of the Rings. Not that keen on sci-fi, but enjoys it on occasion. She likes horror too, just loves to get scared, but I’d say it’s third on her list of favorites. Followed by comedy, Mel Brooks level, not Wayans brothers. And her favorite food is lemon cakes. She once ate so many, that she threw up yellow vomit, and then was ready to eat more!”

“Damnit, Bronn! Too much information!” Sandor said in horror. Bronn just laughed.

“Sorry, it’s one of my first memories of her. To be fair, she was seven at the time. She doesn’t do that kind of crap now, but she still seriously loves that stuff. Get her a lemon cake, and it’ll make her happy. Get it for her and present it next to a marathon of Die Hard movies, and she may just fall in love with you.” Bronn chuckled. “She has a thing for Bruce Willis.”

Sandor couldn’t help it, he had to laugh. “Seriously, Bruce Willis? The guy is, what? Twenty, thirty years older than her? Something like that.”

Bronn shrugged, but kept grinning, “You’re right, you may be too young for her tastes.” That earned him a punch. “Just text her and invite her over for a movie. Make sure you have plenty of popcorn, the kettlecorn stuff, not the buttered. The buttered stuff makes her queasy. Something about the smell.”

Sandor listened to Bronn, mentally taking notes on the DOs and DON’Ts of his yet to be scheduled date. When Bronn took a call, Sandor used the moment to fire off a quick text to the little bird to invite her back to his place for a movie night. He was slipping the phone back into his pocket when it chimed. 

**Little Bird 11:46pm I’d love to! When? Free tomorrow, busy with practice in the mornings for the rest of the week, but my afternoons and evenings are free. :***

He smiled,  _Such an eager little bird._ He wondered about the little face at the end of the message. Bronn was still on the phone, so he sent back a reply.

**11:47pm Monday afternoon is fine, just text me when you’re ready to come over. I have to run errands tomorrow.**

_Let’s see, lemon cake, lemon cake. I don’t think I’ve ever made something like that before. Nana’s book probably has a recipe for it. If not, I’ve been meaning to call her anyway. Probably should just go over to see her. Maybe not tell her why I want to make a lemon cake though..._

His phone chimed again.

**Little Bird 11:48pm Ok! Should I bring anything? Drinks? Snacks?**

**11:49pm An appetite. I’ve got popcorn, dinner is planned for, and will have plenty of cherry coke for you. Whatever else you want to bring is fine with me.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus concludes the first twenty-four hours of their acquaintance. Stay tuned for date night!


	13. Sansa: Every Breath You Take, Hungry Like The Wolf

She countered the takedown with a roll, pinning Margaery to the mat. “Ow ow ow ow! Ok! I give! Tap out!”

Sansa released her. Her energy was bubbling over and she was not quite ready to stop practice. "Want to go again?"

Margaery looked up at her incredulously. "Uh, no, I'd like to be able to walk out of here. Maybe Arya or one of the other girls will accommodate you on this. I am out!" Margaery grinned at her, holding her hand up to Sansa, who obliged and pulled the shorter girl to her feet. “Nervous about something, San? You’re usually not this aggressive in practice.”

Sansa looked around. Her mother was in the manager’s office with Baelish, going over some paperwork before she left on her trip to go see the head of the UFC, Dana White. She turned back to Margaery. “I have a date this afternoon.” The shorter girl’s eyes went wide.

“What?! With who?? Please tell me it’s that hunk Sandor,” she pleaded, grasping at Sansa’s arm. The redhead flinched internally, but kept her face calm. _You can do this, just keep breathing,_ she thought. _Looks like I’m not as cured as I thought afterall. Except with Sandor…_ Her tummy was beset with butterflies just thinking about him. Margaery was looking at her expectantly.

“Um. Yes, with Sandor,” she replied quietly. All heads turned to them when Margaery let out a squeal. Sansa shushed her frantically. “It’s just a casual date, Mar! Don’t go getting your hopes up.”

“Oh, Sansa darling, I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I’m just so thrilled for you,” The girl gave her a semi-apologetic smile. “This is the first guy you’ve been out with since...well...you know…” It felt like the very air around them had gone stale. Memories danced at the edge of her mind, but she pushed them back.

“Yeah, I know,” she whispered. “He just...he seems different from the rest. The look in his eyes, yes, he likes what he sees, but he’s also looking at _me,_ actually _seeing_ me. I felt it that night at the club, as if he was staring right into my soul, tainted as it is, and he was ok with it, maybe even liked what he saw there.”

“You do not have a tainted soul.” Margaery looked thoughtful, “Is that why you went home with him? Because of how he could see you?”

Sansa nodded. The mood was lightening, for which she was grateful, her nerves calming. “That, and...ok, it sounds dopey, but I felt a connection with him. A very physical connection, of course, but there was something there on another level. I didn’t want to ignore that, it was nothing like what I felt with Joff or Harry, or anyone for that matter. I was flying on instinct.”

“Oh, sweetie, that’s wonderful! Bronn told me a little about him. He sounds like a great guy, if a little rough around the edges.”

Sansa smiled, “I kind of like that. Joff and Harry were both so polished, a rough-edged guy is more than a bit refreshing.”

“What time are you going over?”

“He said anytime in the afternoon, to just text him to let him know when I’m on my way.” Sansa felt the nervousness come back, the little butterflies in her tummy beating their wings rapidly.

“Well, it’s already past noon, what are you waiting for?” Margaery poked at her friend. “Scared?”

Sansa nodded sheepishly. “A bit. I really like him so far. We’ve been texting constantly since Saturday night. I just...I don’t want to find out he’s like the others.”

Margaery grinned. “Don’t worry about that! If he is, well, Bronn already promised that if your giant does anything you don’t like, he’d round up all five of your brothers and put the beat down on him!”

Sansa couldn’t help but laugh at that.

**********

A half-hour later, the two girls were back at their apartment. Margaery looked through the mail as Sansa headed into the shower first. Jeyne I (not to be confused with Jeyne II, Robb’s wife) was their third (sometimes) roommate and was currently nowhere to be seen. Jeyne lived with them when her husband, and Sansa’s brother, Theon was out of town on business. He travelled a lot to the Free Cities, and Jeyne hated staying in their apartment by herself, so she would spend that time living with Margaery and Sansa instead. As it turned out, Theon had just gotten back to town in time to see the fights on Saturday, though Sansa had completely missed seeing him at all. Jeyne was probably with him at the moment making up for lost time, or she was at her cafe, home to the third best lemon cakes ever made.

Sansa loved living with Jeyne because not only was the girl neat and tidy, but she would often bring back baked goods from work. The only downside was that Jeyne was a notorious gossip. While Margaery would pester her for details about things, Jeyne would let everyone else know those details. She was a nice girl, but she just did not know when to keep her mouth shut. She counted herself lucky that Jeyne hadn’t noticed Sansa’s absence on Friday night.

The hot water felt good against her tired muscles. Brienne always urged her to take a few more days off, but Sansa hated being inactive right after a fight, and would only concede to taking all of Sunday and then the every other afternoons off for the first week. Brienne only let her get away with it because Sansa told her it helped her think of plot lines for her books. It did, but only about half the time.

Her usual schedule was two hours of training, and several hours of writing or researching, depending on what she was writing. She didn’t have any deadlines at the moment, her contract with her publisher was up for renegotiation and therefore was currently up in the air, and so her writing was taking a more relaxed pace. She liked to use this time to experience new things to further her writing, but Sandor was first and foremost on her mind right now. _I guess experiencing a relationship is something new._

Wrapped in a towel, she was drying her hair when Margaery knocked on the door. “San, may I come in?” Sansa gave her an affirmative and Margaery entered, holding a blood red envelope. “Sweetie, your secret admirer left a note.”

Sansa held her hand out for it. “That’s the third one in the past week, isn’t it?” she asked in a flat tone. Sure enough, the envelope was sealed with wax, a skewed emblem of the Lion of Night stamped into it. “He left a note in the locker room, too,” she said. The crumpled note was still in her jacket pocket. It had merely said, “You were beautiful walking out,” and was signed with his usual blasphemous god symbol. She figured he must have a god complex, since he took the Lion of Night as his own symbol and called her his angel.

“Makes ten in the past month,” Margaery added softly. “Want me to toss it?”

Sansa shook her head. “No, put it in the box in the closet. You’ll see which one.”

Margaery turned to the closet and slid open the door. On the lower shelf was a white file box marked “PSYCHO”. She grinned perversely. “Nice name.”

“It fits,” Sansa replied. “Everything I get from this person goes in there. I talked to Jaime last week. He said to keep everything. Oh, there’s a plastic bag you can put it in, too. Evidence bags, and a pen so you can write the date and time on the bag. Don’t seal it though, I’ll need to take a look at it later. Jaime promised to test it for fingerprints, DNA, the whole shebang, but I have to have enough evidence for him to start or a direct threat written in one of the notes. I have to _prove_ that it’s worth the department’s time to process my case.” She made a disgusted noise. “Damn straight it’s worth the time.”

“My fingerprints will be on this one at least.” Margaery tossed the bagged and tagged envelope into the box. “Will I be a suspect?”

“You’ll be ruled out pretty quickly,” Sansa replied. “As much as you admire me, you love guys way too much to stalk a girl.”

Margaery grinned. “You have a point there. You’re pretty and all, but I much prefer a sausage to a taco. Especially Bronn’s sausage.”

“Hmm…” Sansa tapped her finger to her chin in serious consideration. “You have a point, tacos are great, but nothing beats a good lean sausage. Oh, especially one that’s been aged a few years,” Sansa giggled.

“Oh, I know, and Bronn really knows how to beat that meat so it’s nice and tender! And that special sauce he uses on it, yum~mee!” Margaery was trying to keep a straight face.

“And, of course, if you’re going to have a nice thick sausage, you’re going to want to have some bread.”

“Wait, what? Bread?” Margaery asked, confused.

Sansa nodded, “Oh yes, bread. You know, buns. Or a muffin. Nicely buttered up to slide the sausage in between. Delicious!”

Margaery cracked up, laughing so hard, she was having trouble breathing and collapsed onto the floor holding her sides. Sansa wasn’t able to keep her act up after that and joined in on the laughter. After a few minutes, Margaery calmed down enough to say in between wheezes, “Oh gods... I wasn’t sure...where you were going...with that, but that was...such a great setup!”

A knock on the door startled both of them. Catching her breath, Margaery got up, “I’ll see who it is. Finish getting dressed, young lady! You have a man to woo.” She grinned at her friend before leaving the room.

A few minutes later, Sansa was fully dressed and grabbing her keys from the designated bowl in the kitchen.

Bronn walked in just then, followed by Margaery. “Hey San, thought you’d be on your way to Sandor’s by now.”

Sansa smiled, “I’m just about to leave. You keeping Margaery company tonight?”

“Yeah. Since you and Sandor are having a movie night, and Jeyne is out with Theon, I thought Margaery and I could have a night in. I brought my specially smoked sausage too!” He held up a food container. “Fresh out of the smoker, so to speak.”

The girls both broke into uncontained laughter, leaving Bronn with a very confused look on his face.


	14. Sandor: (Can Anybody Find Me) Somebody to Love

Sandor stared at the small cakes that sat on his kitchen counter. He had eaten one, just to make sure they came out right. It had been so long since he had had one, but it tasted just like the ones Nana used to make. He had gone to see his grandmother the day before and wheedled her lemon cake recipe out of her. In the end, he had had to admit it was for a girl before she’d give it to him.

_“And when will I meet this young lady?” she asked him with a calculating smirk._

_He rolled his eyes. “This is our first date, Nana. At least wait a few weeks before deciding how many kids we’re going to have,” he said dryly. Elida "Nana" Clegane only shook her head at him._

_“For a first date, you’re working awfully hard to impress her, going out of your way to make something_ like this _for her. Means you like her. A lot. I’m not blind, fool. And if I don’t dream for you, you’d never get the idea into your thick skull! I swear, you are as bad as your grandfather, gods watch over his soul. He was thick-headed, too. I want great-grandchildren before I’m too old to spoil them. Couldn’t do that with you, though I wish I had been able to.” Sandor sighed as Nana went off into her usual rant. She had raised Sandor after rescuing him from his father’s house, and had to be a strict parent, not a doting grandparent to the poor neglected child he was. That was the only regret she claimed. Well, that one and not being able to rescue her grandson sooner, but that was something they did not speak of. Gregor probably had a few bastards running around, but unless the mother brought them to the Cleganes, they’d never know about it._

_“--prayed to the Crone and the Mother to give me strength to deal with you,” she finished up. Sandor could practically recite the monologue along with her, but that would only earn him a swift smack to the back of his head. “So why a lemon cake? It’s not the easiest to make, though I doubt you’ll have any trouble, nor is it the most popular dessert.”_

_“Bronn--”_

_“If you say that Bronn dared you, I will smack you into next week,” she threatened, but there was no heat behind it._

_Sandor chuckled, “No, the little bird is a friend of Bronn’s, technically he’s the reason we met, and he said it’s her favorite.”_

_“Ah, so you have an inside source on her likes and dislikes. And a nickname. Very nice. Didn’t you used to call the girl down the street that name though? Oh, dear, what was her name? Cute little gel.” His grandmother looked like she was going to go off into another tangent, so Sandor rose from his seat to leave._

_“I don’t recall ever calling anyone else that, Nana, but I had better get going. I have to go to the store to get some of the ingredients, as well as run some other errands.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll call you and let you know how the cake turns out.”_

As he was shopping for ingredients, he thought about what his grandmother had said. He remembered a little girl he used to play with, though her image was fuzzy in his mind. He had baked a lot for the sad little thing. A memory of an interaction in his childhood had been a driving inspiration for his current venture into business, and he wasn’t sure, but it might have been of this girl. Brown hair and very light blue eyes, not like Sansa. Then again, there was no one like Sansa. He felt a little bad that he couldn’t remember more, but it had been the summer before his “accident” and a lot of the memories from before then were fuzzy. He supposed he could have called his childhood friend little bird, and forgotten about it, but only Sansa really reminded him of one. She was very talkative and walked like she was gliding on air or flying. And then, of course, she really did fly, at least in the ring.

He prepped the lemon cream and lemon custard that night, letting it sit overnight in the fridge. Nana had sworn that this was vital, but hadn’t really given him a specific time frame. It had been difficult to get Stranger to keep his nose out of the bowls, and Sandor had finally banished him to the backyard. In the morning, he started making the cake itself. It had taken three tries to get it just right. He was glad he had had the foresight to make extra of the cream and custard. It also helped that the lemon cake was more of a tart than a cake, and that he made tartlets instead of a full size tart.

A familiar peace settled on him as he worked. He had always enjoyed being in the kitchen, it was how Nana had gotten through to him when she first took him in. When you’re a chef or a baker, people didn’t care what you looked like, they only cared about what you made and if it tasted good and looked good. Presentation was a feast for the eyes, and he vastly preferred his creations taking his place in the limelight. He had worked at a bakery during the summers of high school, but had found it was much easier to earn money in MMA fights. He loved to bake and to cook, and he was good at it, but it wasn’t a very good outlet for the rage he had felt from the world that now shunned him because of how he looked. It was his new friend Bronn that introduced him to MMA.

The fighting helped focus his anger and he was damn good at that, too. He worked his way up the ranks, earning a spot at the highest level, a chance for the Heavyweight Championship Title. He smiled at the bittersweet memory. _A bit like this lemon cake, sour yet sweet. Wonder why the little bird likes it so much._ Now, all he needed to do was chill the pastries and by the time dinner rolled around, it would be perfect. _But when will she get here?_

His phone chimed.

**Little Bird 1:47pm On my way! Be there in about 25 min.**

**1:47pm Ok. I’ll be here waiting.**

He tossed the phone onto the table next to the lemon cakes. He stared at it for a few seconds, then picked it up again. He opened it to the message screen, re-read the last text she sent, then shut the phone off again and placed it back on the table. Folding his hands over his chest and biting his lower lip, he tapped his foot impatiently and stared at the phone.

“Buggering hells!” he swore and picked it up again. Scrolling to earlier messages, he re-read part of their conversation from the previous day. It was full of light flirting, some more of those faces with the asterisk, and playful banter. He smiled as he read.

**SUNDAY**

**Little Bird 3:32pm So why do I need to bring an appetite?**

**3:32pm It’s a surprise.**

**Little Bird 3:43pm Hmmm...that could mean a lot of things. :* Like, you’re cooking. Do you cook?**

**3:45pm On occasion. Do you?**

**Little Bird 3:46pm Sometimes. Not a chef or anything, but I make a mean red beans and rice with sausage.**

**3:46pm That is awfully specific. Is it out of a box?**

**Little Bird 3:47pm ……………**

**Maybe.**

**Still yummy. And unburnt. That’s an accomplishment for me.**

**3:48pm Is most of what you make out of dinner kits?**

**Little Bird 3:50pm Will you like me less if I say yes? Because then the answer is no.**

**3:50pm Ha ha. No, I won’t like you less if that’s what you do. It’s kind of adorable.**

**Little Bird 3:51pm What? How?**

**3:52pm You look like a girly girl, the kind that obsesses about becoming a good homemaker, but you can’t cook. It’s adorable and charming.**

**Little Bird 3:55pm What?! No! >:O Stahp! Recognize my power!**

**3:56pm See? Adorable.**

**Little Bird 3:57pm I will have my vengeance. It will be swift and tickley. Mwah ha ha ha! >:D**

**3:57pm You do realize you’re only supporting my claim right now, don’t you?**

**Little Bird 3:58pm ……….. Yes.**

He set the phone down again, this time a lot calmer. He was still nervous, but not as much as he had been only a few moments before.

“Come on, ya jerk. Let’s go burn some of this excess energy off, shall we?” he said to Stranger. The dog’s ears perked up and he got to his feet, stretching out.

A moped rolled up to his front yard twenty minutes later, as he threw a ball for Stranger to fetch. Sandor raised an eyebrow as he watch Sansa dismount from it. “That’s your ride? And you didn’t know how to be a passenger on a motorcycle?” he asked with a grin.

Stranger ran up to her and was rewarded with a scratch behind the ears. “To be fair, while similar, a motorcycle goes a lot faster than my little Hobbit. And I wasn’t sure if there was a difference. If you want, I’ll make it up to you by giving you a ride on Frodo.”

Sandor stared at her. “You call your Honda PA50 Hobbit...Frodo?”

“Well, I couldn’t call it Aragorn. That would be weird!” she exclaimed as she removed her helmet and stowed it in the little compartment on the side.

Sandor burst out laughing. “That it would be. And where did you manage to find such a relic?”

“My sister’s husband. He’s a mechanic. He likes to challenge himself by fixing up old machines, but he doesn’t actually want to keep them, so he usually sells them. He gave this one to me as a nameday present. He does the upkeep on it as well.” She walked slowly towards him.

Sandor felt his heart skip a beat. It had only been two days since he had last seen her, but his memory did not do justice to her image. Her red hair was pulled back into a simple braid. The cuts on her face looked better but still were not fully healed. The bruise was barely beginning to yellow, and was still a painful looking purple. She wore a black hoodie this time, a dull yellow t-shirt underneath that, trimmed with black, a black skirt, and yellow and black sneakers to match. He remembered her fight clothing had had a similar color scheme. _Must be her favorite colors or something._

His eyes trailed down, resting on her legs. He remembered how powerful she had been in her fight, how the muscles had rippled beautifully under her smooth skin as she held Swann in that armbar. He gulped. He remembered those legs around his waist and his body shivered involuntarily with anticipation. _Down, boy. She hasn’t said she wants more of that._

“So, are we going to be playing with Stranger for a bit?” she asked softly. She was right in front of him, very close, too close and not close enough. His heartbeat was loud in his ears when she reached for his shirt to pull him down into a gentle kiss. “I’m good with that, just so you know.”

“Whatever you want, little bird,” he whispered. _Oh gods, I’m a goner. I’ll do whatever she wants._ He noticed a look of surprise on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“You called me ‘little bird’,” she said. His eyes went wide. He hadn’t meant to ever call her that out loud.

“I...sorry, you just reminded me of a little bird when I saw you fight, a little skittish, but then flying around and bringing down that vulture of a girl. I won’t call you that again,” he said sheepishly.

She shook her head, “No, it’s fine. I like it. Better than ‘Aerial Assassin’, that’s for sure. Definitely cuter.” She looked down shyly. He loved how she went from being very forward to very shy. It made him want to just kiss the stuffing out of her.

**********

“So, you have a choice, I have Die Hard and I have RocknRolla. Think about it while I make some popcorn,” he said, leaving her with Stranger in the living room. He pulled out the box of microwave kettlecorn. It had taken a while to find the stuff, but when he did, he bought the largest box available. He had felt as nervous buying the damn popcorn as a teenager buying his first box of condoms. He kept expecting someone to jump out and scream at him that he wasn’t worthy of the affections of a girl like Sansa and how dare he presume that he buy her popcorn. It was a foolish notion, he knew that, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that any moment now she would look over at him and say, “On second thought, nevermind.”

The sweet scent of the kettlecorn soon filled the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, watching her play with Stranger, when she turned her face up. Closing her eyes, she sniffed the air. Stranger followed suit. Sandor bit back a laugh. He watched the smile grow on her face. She opened her eyes and turned so that she was kneeling on the couch, her arms over the back of it as she faced him. “Is that kettlecorn?”

“Oh, yeah... I hope you don’t mind. I’m trying a new flavor. Been getting tired of just buttered. I have a bag or two if you’d prefer that.”

“Oh! No, I’ll share the kettlecorn, if you don’t mind. It’s, um,” she looked down shyly again, “it’s my favorite.”

“I know.” He grinned at her.

“What? How?”

He chuckled, “I have a confession. Bronn told me. He also told me you like action movies. I have a surprise for you later, but it’s also something Bronn said you would like.”

“So you’ve been getting inside info on me from Bronn, then?” She looked at him mischievously.

“Uh, yes?” He was worried now.

“Ok.” She sat back down on the couch, turning her attention back to Stranger. The popcorn was done and he emptied the bag into a large bowl. Walking back into the living room, he peeked over her shoulder and saw her texting Bronn.

**2:13pm BRONN. If you’re going to spill my secrets to Sandor, you better be ready to fess up his to me.**

**TURNCLOAK 2:14pm Damn San. You could just say please.**

**2:14pm >:I Knowing you, you OFFERED them up. You made no such offer to ME.**

**TURNCLOAK 2:15pm Only the relevant stuff. No deep darks. Fine, fine. Not right now though. I’ll text you a whole essay of his likes and dislikes later. Don’t rename me anything unflattering.**

**2:15pm Too late. I’ll change it back once I get that essay.**

“You could just ask me, you know,” he said in her ear, causing her to jump in her seat.

“You startled me! And the same could be said of you,” she pointed out, turning her phone off. He nodded in agreement.

“That’s fair. Ok, how about this, I’ll tell you everything Bronn told me, then you tell me if it’s true or not. If it is, I’ll tell you one equivalent detail about myself. Deal?” He held out the popcorn bowl as a peace offering.

“Deal.”


	15. Sansa: We’re Going To Be Friends (With Benefits?)

The movie idea was completely abandoned by this point. Sansa had so far learned that Sandor knew she was a geek/nerd/whatever. Bronn had even told him about her obsession with anime, which led her to correcting Sandor’s assumption that it was all hentai. She also learned that he also liked fantasy movies, but preferred sci-fi and neither liked nor disliked horror. He hadn’t really found anything of the genre that scared him, though he was more than willing to watch with her if she wanted. He didn’t watch movies all that often, and was more of TV junkie, when he found the time. He had a little tv set up in the kitchen so he could watch while cooking. She also found out he knew about her shot glass collection, meager that it was, and learned he had a playing card collection, and a penchant for watching animated movies, but he only watched them once they came out on Netflix or DVD, because, “I look weird enough in public, don’t want to frighten little kids or their parents in a movie theatre.” 

“What about work? You said you write?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. Um, probably not anything you’ve read, but I write mysteries. I go under the pen name, Ser Blue Winters. I also write romance novels.” She willed herself to not blush, but it wasn’t working.

“I will look it up, but no, I’m not much for mysteries. You seemed embarrassed when you first mentioned it, and you’re beet red right now. Why is that?” He trailed a finger across her heated cheek.

“I used to get made fun of in school for being a writing nerd. I still get insecure about it, though I love it. It’s another outlet for me, like the way MMA is.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think it’s great that you’re a writer. I failed all my creative writing projects in school, so I know it takes a lot to be able to do something like that. I read a lot. Mostly dramatic historicals, but S. Stark is currently my favorite author, though I guess it’s a little weird for a guy to read romance novels.”

“You...you read S. Stark?” she asked, staring at him in bewilderment.

“Uh, yeah? Why?”

“Uh...think about it. Take your time.” She tried to suppress the smile, but it was difficult.

He frowned at her, but considered what they had just been talking about. He was talking to himself, ticking off points in the conversation, "Said she’s a writer. Writes mysteries and...romance novels… I said I like to read S. Stark novels… S.Stark...Sansa...Stark…" He turned back to her, “Oh…”

She giggled and rested her head on her palm. “Yeah. Always glad to meet a fan. Want me to sign anything?”

He threw a piece of popcorn at her. “Stop laughing. And maybe. You’re really good. At the romance writing, I mean. Jury’s still out on your mysteries.”

“That’s fair. What else you got?”

“Ok, last one of the stuff Bronn told me. You’re in love with Bruce Willis,” he said. 

“False. I  _do_ have a celebrity crush on him, but I’m not in love with him. You?”

“I don’t really have any celebrity crushes. I like watching Mariska Hargitay on SVU. And Lucy Lawless in just about anything she does. She’s just badass.”

She grinned, sensing a pattern. “You like strong women.”

He shrugged but she could see him blushing. “I was raised by a strong woman. Hard not to like them.”

“So, on to family then?” she asked. They were sitting on the couch, facing each other with the popcorn bowl in between them. Stranger had only attempted to steal from it once, and was currently snoozing underneath the coffee table. Sandor had explained that the dog had been doing that since he was a puppy when he saw her confused look. He was so large, she had no idea how he had managed to squeeze himself in there, it was apparently a dog thing. 

“Parents are both dead, long time ago. My maternal grandmother took me in two years after my mother passed. Didn’t approve of how my father was raising my elder brother. Father passed a few years after that, hunting accident. Gregor, that’s my brother, inherited it all. He’s squandered most of it, drugs and gambling, mostly. Only thing left is the family estate, and he cannot sell that, though he has let it fall into ruin.”

“That’s terrible. All of it, I mean, except for your grandmother. She sounds nice. So it’s just you and your brother then? No sisters?”

Sandor shook his head. “No, but almost. My mother gave birth to a stillborn baby girl when I was...five? I think. They hadn’t even decided on a name when they found out. Damn near broke my mother’s heart. They tried again, but no luck. Then my mother was in a car accident. Don’t cry now, girl. It’s in the past. I’m over it.”

Sansa wiped away tears from her eyes. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it. “Sorry, it’s just, well, I imagined what it would have felt like. I’m kind of a cryer, by the way. I can’t even watch commercials that are meant to tug on heartstrings without bawling.”

“And your family? You seem to get along well with your sister and her husband.” He offered her a clean napkin. Accepting it graciously, she dabbed at her eyes.

“Yes. They’ve been together since high school. Got married right after she graduated. He was a senior and she was a freshman. Dad wasn’t too crazy about him, but then he found out Gendry is the bastard son of one of Dad’s childhood friends. Not that his parentage has anything to do with it, but after that, Dad was more accepting of Gendry. Thankfully, he’s inherited his father's good traits and none of the bad. My brothers love him. Oh, I have five brothers, two of which are adopted. Robb, Theon and Jon are all close in age, and everyone just called them the triplets. Robb looks like my mom, though not as much as I do. Jon looks like my dad, practically a carbon copy. Very strong with the Stark blood, he is. Theon looks nothing like any of us, but he was adopted from another family, whereas Jon was adopted from my aunt. Then there’s Bran, very brainy. He wanted to be a fighter too, but turns out it wasn’t for him. Rickon is the baby of the family, but, well, you saw him on Saturday. Not that much of a baby.”

“Wait, you’re a  _Stark_ Stark?” he asked incredulously. “As in daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark?”

“Yeah. Oh, didn’t I mention it was my brother we were watching the other night?” 

“Uh, no, I would have remembered that. Seven hells, that explains how you know Bronn. He told me Ned Stark was his first trainer, back when he first entered MMA professionally.”

“Well, we knew him before that. He and his mom live at the WInterfell estate for the longest time. Then she died, and he went to live with his aunt.” Sansa munched on the popcorn. “I missed him like crazy. He was practically my sixth brother. Even wrote him letters after her moved away.”

“Oh yeah, I had met him by then, so I knew about the letters. I didn’t realize that was you though, not until he mentioned it again the other night. Turns out I’ve heard a lot about you, though I’ve forgotten most of it. I do remember thinking you must have been one cute kid, for someone like Bronn to keep up the correspondence.” Sansa ducked her head down to hide her smile. 

“Yeah, well, once I reached middle school, I stopped writing. Kind of regret that now, but at the time, I figured I was a bother, since he wasn’t writing as much anymore either, plus I was super busy with school and friends.”

“Nah, you weren’t, but like you, he was pretty busy, though he was getting into fights with the Kettleblack brothers.” Sandor grabbed a handful of popcorn, spilling some onto the floor, which Stranger eagerly gobbled up from his spot beneath the coffee table.

“Kettleblack brothers… I think I know them, if there’s three of them, they work for Mr. Baelish and Mr. Bolton. Only ever really met Osmund.” Sansa tossed a popcorn piece in the air and caught it in her mouth. “He stares too much. I didn’t realize Bronn had a history with him, but that explains the looks they exchange whenever they’re around each other.”

Sandor frowned. “Sounds like them. Who’s Baelish and Bolton?”

“Mr. Baelish is my mother’s friend and my uncle by marriage, he works as a PR agent for Winterfell Gym and Fitness, though his main business is financials. Mr. Bolton is his partner, but he doesn’t work with us. He handles other accounts, I guess. His son is Ramsey Snow. He trained with my brother for a while, but Ramsey is one twisted psycho. My father kicked him out after a month, and told Mr. Bolton that if he caught Ramsey around the gym again, he’d call the KLPD on him. I don’t know what Ramsey did, but it must have been really bad if my father reacted like that.”

“The Bastard of the North, a name earned for more than just his parentage. He’s a sadistic little fuck, from what I hear, but enough about him though,” Sandor said. “What about the rest of your family?”

Sansa smiled, “Mother is running the business now, with the help of Mr. Baelish. Father was in an accident, a mugging that went horribly wrong, earlier this year. He’s alive, and his body has since healed, but he’s been in a coma. My Uncle Benjen was helping out for a bit, but he’s a Ranger and he was called in for a search and rescue mission on the other side of the Wall last month. Those things can take a while, so we don’t know when to expect him back. My father’s older brother passed away a few years after Bran was born. Their sister, Jon’s mother, her husband Rhaegar, and Grandfather Rickard were killed by Uncle Rhaegar’s father. The man had gone mad, lit the entire estate on fire. His other children were there too, along with Uncle Rhaegar’s previous wife and their children. Jon and his aunt Dany would have burned as well, but he was visiting with us. Mom had been begging them to let Jon stay with us for a bit, from what I heard. She completely dotes on him, though she had so many kids now, it’s hard to tell. Dany was with her nanny, out at the playground. I was only a year old, Robb and Jon were three. Theon didn’t join our family until two years after that.”

“Mad Aerys Targaryen...I remember hearing about that. Sad beginnings,” Sandor commented.

Sansa just shrugged. “It’s in the past. They’re both doing quite well now. Dany went to live with her godfather in Pentos, which is where she met her husband, and they moved back here, um, five years ago? Maybe it was seven. Anyway, she and her husband Drogo run a Dothraki martial arts center. Sometimes I train there. Drogo’s nice and a great instructor, but his accent can be hard to understand at times. Jon has his movie career. He goes by the pseudonym Snow. Didn’t want people to judge him by his family name.”

Sandor’s jaw dropped. “Your cousin is Snow? The man that rivals Jaqen H’ghar in both talent and skill as an actor?” She nodded. “Seven hells, little bird, you are an impressive girl from an equally impressive family.” She laughed at that,  _almost_ missing him whisper, “What the hell are you doing hanging around me?”

She felt time slow and become still. She saw him, saw the cracks in his armor, saw the weakness below. His usual confidence was gone. Looking into his eyes, she saw the doubt, and recognized it. It was the same as her own, the one she had struggled with for years, still struggled with now, the doubt of your own self worth. She ached to soothe him, tell him that, what? It would be alright? That she wouldn't care if he was lowborn as Gendry? Words...words were only wind in situations like this.

Before she left the apartment, Bronn had warned her to be gentle with his friend. Now she saw why. She didn’t think, just acted. The remainder of the popcorn went flying as she knocked the bowl away in her hurry to get to him. Stranger went crazy trying to eat it all up before the humans could stop him. She ignored the dog and grabbed Sandor’s shirt as she slid her mask into place. The cold, hard mask she had worn to protect herself. It gave her strength when she had none, it would give her strength now, though she did not need it at full strength for the man in front of her.  _Level one should be enough._ Full strength was level ten, full strength was pure solid ice, full strength meant death to the one it was trained on. She straddled his lap with her knees, looming over him, schooling her features into cool detachment as his shirt bunched in her fists. His head tilted back so that he could stare up at her in confusion and sadness.

“Are you questioning my judgement, Sandor?” Her voice was low, calm, almost deadly. Without her mask in place, her heart would have been pounding loudly enough for him to hear.  _Face of steel, mind of ice, heart unwavering._

He stared at her, eyes wide with astonishment. “I, um…”

“Because,” she interrupted, letting the mask begin to fade away and releasing her death grip on his shirt, one hand slipping behind his head to grab a fistful of his hair and pulling his head to the side to expose his neck, “it is not just anyone I let into my circle. It’s not just anyone I let  _into me._ So, if you are, I would have to punish you. And while you may enjoy it,” she leaned down and nipped at his lips, working her way down his jawline and to the exposed neck, “I promise that it would be  _torturous.”_ She allowed a small yet cocky grin to herself.

When his adam’s apple bobbed, she saw that the doubt in his eyes had been replaced with desire. She gave him a full on wicked smile as his hands gripped her hips lightly. “Little bird, what are you doing to me?” he whispered. It was a plea and a prayer.

“Right now? I’m gobbling you up,” she said, capturing his lips with hers.


	16. Sandor: Lean On Me

He must have died at some point, surely. On the way to the club, or maybe inside the club. He had died and somehow managed to sneak into heaven. That was the only reasonable explanation of why a goddess like his little bird would bestow her affection on someone like him. It took him by surprise when she got angry about his doubt in himself. She kissed him fiercely, her hands roaming over and under his shirt, leaving trails of heat wherever she touched him. _Right now? I’m gobbling you up._ Her words echoed in his head. He felt like she really would consume him in her fire.

He barely registered the cool air on his skin, the fact that his shirt was now gone, that his pants were suddenly becoming tighter and then looser, or that she pushed him into a proper sitting position on the couch, instead of the sideways positions they had previously held in order to sit and face each other. Suddenly she was gone, her mouth no longer on his, her weight no longer on his lap. He opened his eyes and blinked in confusion. Then gasped as he felt her mouth descend on his cock. She had unbuttoned and unzipped him, pulled him free of his boxers and was going to town. “Oh, fuck me,” he uttered as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

“In good time, Sandor, in good time,” he heard her say in a muffled voice, as her tongue was busy licking him. _How the tables have turned,_ he thought. He heard a snort and opened one eye to see Stranger walk out of the room with what could only be described as a look of disgust on his doggy face. _At least he’s not trying to join in, I suppose._ He had completely forgotten about the dog, and by the looks of it, so had Sansa. He looked down and groaned at the sight before him, Sansa’s pretty mouth wrapped around him, her arms on draped over his thighs for balance, the strength of her muscle clearly defined even if hidden by the long sleeves of the hoodie, her hands stroking the base of his cock where her mouth couldn’t reach.

“Little bird, stop, it’s too much, please, I’m going to…” he moaned helplessly. _I’m such a green boy for her._ He heard her chuckle.

“Very well, but only because you said please. I’m not done with you yet.” He felt her weight shift as she rose from her knees and straddled his lap. He opened his eyes slightly, saw her looking down at him. The gentle smile on her face disarmed him completely, and her kiss stole his breath. _If I’m not dead yet, I could die happily right now._

He gripped her hips, his thumbs rubbing little circles on her skin. He felt one of her hands on his cock, the other laced through his black locks, feeling little sparks where her fingers touched his scalp. He hissed with pleasure as he felt her lower herself on him. _She’s feels even better than before._ “Oh my,” he heard her murmur, “This feels even better than I imagined. I can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”

“Do what?” he asked. He wasn’t sure what she was talking about, except for the insanely impressive woman about to ride his cock, the situation seemed fairly normal to him.

“I’ll tell you later, don’t want to spoil the mood,” she said with a grin. “Right now, I want you to close your eyes, and tell me what you’re feeling. Does this feel good?” Her tone told him she knew it did, as she began to ride him, but he remembered how nicely she had reacted when he was talking during sex the last time. He wasn’t sure why he had done it, since he had never been much of a talker, let alone during a fuck, but it had apparently been something she liked if she was asking him to do it again.

“Oh fuck yes, it does,” he rasped. “Gods, your cunt feels so good, so fucking tight. I love how you’re wrapped around me, how your tits are pressed against me.” He ran his hands up her sides and across her back. “And your moans, yeah, just like that, darlin’, fuck, your voice is just so damn sexy. Oh gods, and when you move like that,” she was rolling her hips as she rose and fell on his cock. “Little bird, I’m getting close,” he warned her.

“Sandor,” she said with a moan, and pulled his head forward. He felt something soft against his lips and instinctively flicked his tongue out, grazing what he realized was her nipple. “Your mouth..” she gasped out. He happily took it and suckled. “Oh gods, yes!” she said as she arched her back, pushing her chest into his face. He held her with one arm around her waist, loosely so that he did not interrupt her ride, his other hand found her breast and kneaded it somewhat roughly. He felt her begin to tremble. “Sandor...I’m...oh gods… _Sandor~”_ she said as she pulsated around him. “Now, take over, _now.”_

He grunted, “Hold on tight, little bird,” and began to thrust up into her. She wrapped her arms around him and clung to him for dear life as she chanted his name. He felt her tense again, giving a strangled cry of pleasure. Her second climax did him in, pushing him to completion. He relaxed into the couch, all the tension leaving his body, holding her close and enjoying the feeling of her weight on him. He opened his eyes and glanced down at the woman now nuzzling his neck.

“Enjoy your punishment then?” she asked, kissing him along his neck and collarbone.

He chuckled, “If that’s what I deserved for questioning your judgement, I ought to do that more often.”

She giggled and slapped his chest lightly. “Ass. You just need to ask nicely if you want me to do that again.” She fidgeted a bit before saying, “I know it was kind of a spur of the moment thing, and I meant to wait a bit before, um, getting intimate again but considering how we met, I’m not opposed to it. I mean, I really like having sex with you, and I really like you, but I want to date you, get to know you, and, yes, have sex with you, in that order.”

Sandor rubbed her shoulder, staring absentmindedly at her scars crisscrossing her otherwise perfect skin, thinking about what she said. A particularly nasty looking one on her right shoulder entranced him. It had been a while since someone told him they wanted to _date_ him, and that had been a gay man. He probably should have been flattered by Loras, but it had brought up a lot of negative thoughts and he had ended up roaring at the guy instead. They still spoke, but Loras walked on eggshells around him even now.

“Or, we could just hook-up, I suppose,” she said quietly, though Sandor could hear the disappointment in her voice. She really wasn’t that great at hiding her feelings, despite what Bronn had said about her “mask”.

“No, I wouldn’t want that,” he said. “Just hooking up with you would be like eating one of those Drumstick ice cream cones and then throwing away the chocolate bit at the end. I want to date you too, little bird, I was just...surprised. Surprised by you wanting it in the first place.”

She pulled away from him to stare at him incredulously. “Why would that be surprising?” His eyes trailed down, seeing her scars in full light for the first time. She looked at where he was looking and turned her eyes away. _Does she expect me to reject her because of that?_

He kissed her scarred shoulder. He felt her shiver, but she was smiling shyly. He chuckled as he continued the conversation. “Most women run from this face. The ones that don’t, they’re more interested in what I can do for them, either in the bedroom or financially or even hurting someone for them. Not so much my charming personality.”

Sansa huffed and crossed her arms in front of her, pushing her breasts up and together. Sandor didn’t think she was doing it on purpose, but he enjoyed the sight of it all the same. Haughtily she declared, “Well, I’m not most women, and they must have been blind!” She huffed again and conceded, “Better for me though.”

“Don’t let it ruffle your feathers, little bird. I’m going to start to think you’re jealous,” he teased.

“Maybe I am, just a little,” she murmured. “I should probably go get a towel or something. Linen closet?”

He snorted. “Just use my shirt. Not like it’s the first time I’ve had to clean cum out of my clothing.” He reached for the discarded shirt on the other side of the couch. “Here, just--” he went still, the realization dawning on him. “Sansa?”

She took the shirt from his hand and started dabbing where their bodies joined. “Yes?”

“Did we just have sex without a condom?”

Her eyes went wide and she jumped off of him, though it was a futile gesture. They both looked down at each other. The sight of his cum dribbling down the inside of her leg towards her yellow knee high socks made his cock twitch a little. His mouth went dry when he saw that that was the only thing she was wearing. _Down, boy. More serious matters to attend to first. Shit, we’ll need either a pregnancy test or a morning after pill._ He felt a clenching of his heart at the thought of asking Sansa to take that pill. He looked back up at Sansa’s face and was surprised to see the hungry look in her eyes as she stared openly at him.

“I’m...I’m just going to go take a quick shower,” she said in a thick voice, unable to look away from his bare skin. “We can talk about it after that. Fully clothed. No distractions. Might want to wear a parka.” She gathered up her clothing, and ran to his bedroom.

He was sorely tempted to follow her, and would need to in order to get a fresh shirt, but for now he stayed seated. After counting to twenty, he rose from the couch and slowly made his way to the bathroom in the guest bedroom with his remaining clothing in hand. He took a quick shower, more of a rinse off though he let the water lean towards colder side, and slipped back into his boxers and pants. Still needing a shirt, he resigned himself to the inevitable, and walked back to his room. Glancing into the room, he saw Stranger was laying on the bed. Three steps in, and he could hear the water going. Letting go of the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding, he walked over to the dresser and pulled out a worn shirt. He had pulled it over his head when he heard a gasp behind him, followed by, “By the gods…” and then a door shutting quickly. He finished pulling the shirt down and turned. Sansa was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear the water going full blast now, and the tell-tale creaking of the water pipes pumping cold liquid through them.

He grinned. _Never thought a female would need to take a cold shower because of ME._

**********

Sansa was sitting on the couch with him again, though Stranger was now sitting in between them as a very effective barrier. Sandor cleared his throat. “So…”

“I’m on the pill.” Sandor stared at her. Sansa looked up at him, face full of guilt. “Well, not the pill, it’s actually one of those long term birth controls… But I hadn’t even brought up the topic of...um...health issues.” He kept staring at her, this time confused. She blushed furiously. “Health issues relating to...sex, and sexual activities.”

“Oh, STDs,” he said with relief. “Yeah, I’m clean, as of my last physical, and I haven’t been with a woman in a while, long before that.”

“Me too, except for the woman bit. Only tried once, but it wasn’t my cup of tea,” she said nonchalantly, though a smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth. He laughed at that. She continued, “Or a man. Well, you’re the first _man_ that I’ve been with. I really don’t think my ex counts as one.”

“Oh, right, that blond cunt.” Sandor frowned. “How many men have you been with? Or males. Humans with cocks. Whatever you want to call them.” He expected her to say “Just you and my ex.”

“I--” she started, and covered her mouth with her hand. Stranger picked up on her distress and scooted closer to her. Sandor saw her give the dog a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Confession: I’m not sure.”

Sandor’s heart began to sink, a stone that was settling into his gut. “What do you mean?” he asked nervously.

Sansa stayed silent for a few moments, playing with Stranger’s ear, scratching him on the back. Sandor saw the tension in her shoulders, the way she scrunched up into herself. _Didn’t she say she wasn’t that experienced? This doesn’t make sense._ The stone in his gut became bigger with every second that passed.

“Joff was my first. My ‘one true love’. I was single for the remaining two years of high school. My only other relationship was with a guy named Harry, or as I call him now, Harry the Arse. We never did anything past making out. When I wouldn’t put out, despite not being a virgin anymore, he dumped me. That, and he saw my scars. After Harry…let’s just say I’ve been more cautious about dating,” she bit her lower lip and her chin quivered. Sandor wanted to tell her to stop, afraid of what she was about to admit next, but he was paralyzed. “In my sophomore year of college, I was kidnapped.”

 _That...was not what I was expecting._ He noticed that her breathing had become ragged and reached over Stranger to hold her hand. Whether she noticed or not, she made no indication, but she began to calm down.

“I was held for five months, in a small windowless room. There was only one light in the room, a light that I could not control. The door was made of a heavy metal, not something I could break down easily, even now. There was only a mattress and a small toilet in the room with me, one of those kind you normally see in a prison cell. Food would be given to me twice a day, I think, through a little slot in the door. I didn’t see anyone for the first day, or so, but on the second day, someone entered the room. A male, dressed in all black, wearing gloves and a full face mask that even hid his eyes. I won’t call him a man or even a bastard, because he’s not worthy of being called even that. I was too scared to make an attempt at freedom. I begged for him to let me go, but he didn’t say anything, just ignored me. He easily held me down on the mattress and raped me.”

She gave a strangled laugh. “The kicker? The damned door was open the entire time. If I could have just gotten him off of me, I would have been able to walk right out of there. I could see the sunlight shining through a window from where I was laying. He never said anything. Just raped me, spilled his seed into me, and left. The next day, it happened again. A male dressed in all black, with gloves and a mask, came in, held me down, raped me. Every damned day. Even during my moonblood. It was hard to tell time in there. I tried to keep track by scratching marks into the wall. One mark for every time he came in. I gave up when I reached fifty-two. I can’t be sure, maybe I was hallucinating, but sometimes it seemed like the guy was different, like more than one rapist was coming for me.” She snorted and laughed bitterly. “Pun not intended. That’s why I can’t be sure how many people I’ve been with. It was like that until the day I returned to my family.”

“How did you escape?” The question rang hollow in his ears. She didn’t seem to mind, or maybe it was  that she didn’t notice.

“I didn’t. He let me go. Must have drugged my food or something, because I went to sleep in the windowless room, but woke up in a hospital, surrounded by my family. I had been dumped on the front lawn of my parents’ house. They weren’t even home at the time, and drove up to find me getting soaked by the automatic sprinklers. They were the ones who rushed me to the hospital.”

“Little bird…” he whispered, squeezing her hand gently. She looked over at him, her eyes were lifeless, her face an emotionless mask. There was no pain, no sadness, just an empty void. _This is what Bronn was talking about. Armor. Armor to protect her mind and her soul._

“I’m sorry, Sandor. I know this isn’t something you should have to deal with. I should have told you sooner, before we... I’ll go now. I won’t contact you anymore.” She rose from her seat on the couch, her hand still grasped by Sandor’s. _Going? Fuck that shit._ He pulled on her hand, causing her to lose her balance. He caught her easily and pulled her onto his lap. “Sandor? What are you--” He silenced her with a fierce kiss, threading his hand through her hair and holding her close.

When he broke it, she looked dazed, but her eyes were no longer glassy and dead. He growled, “Like hell I’m letting you walk out of here like that. Understand this, I don’t care how many guys, or girls, you’ve been with. All I care about is if you’re with me, you’re _only_ with me. The same courtesy I’d give you.” Her lower lip quivered. “I really like you, little bird. There is something here, between us, that I have never felt with anyone else and I don't know what it is yet, but I know I want more...to know more, to explore this more. I don’t want to lose you over something you had no power over, something that is in the past.” He trailed his hand down her arm, over the scars hidden by her long sleeves. “We all have issues we have worked through and need to still work through. Scars on the outside, scars on the inside. If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen. If you don’t, that’s ok, too. Ok?” She nodded, wiping at her eyes, though she hadn’t cried. “Are you hungry? I did promise you dinner. And I could tell you about my past relationships, even this conversation out a bit.”

“No, I just want--” her stomach growled in protest. Sansa’s face went red from embarrassment. “I suppose I could eat something…”

Sandor chuckled. “Well, if you can manage to choke it down, I’ll go finish preparing it. Why don’t you watch Die Hard while you wait? It’ll be about fifteen to twenty minutes. I think Stranger could use some cuddles. He seems a bit depressed,” he said with grin. Sansa nodded again and got up from his lap. He rose and hugged her before heading off to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning the week well rounded, some smut, some angst, some fluff.


	17. Sansa: Shut Up And Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Shut Up And Dance](https://youtu.be/kVJu9AMJJr4) Movie Compilation

Sansa stared at her coffee with a dreamy look on her face as she remembered her evening with Sandor.

“--nsa. SANSA!”

She blinked and looked up at her friends.

“What’s wrong with you,?” Arya asked. Margaery peered at her curiously.

“Um, nothing, sorry, just spaced out a bit. You were saying?”

“Spaced out? Yeah, right. You were thinking about The Hound, weren’t you?” Arya teased. “About him and that ass. Can he shake it on the dance floor?”

Sansa thought about how he had moved his body against hers and blushed. “Maybe. We didn’t go dancing, but he does move with a certain kind of grace. Wait, The Hound?”

Arya was picking the raisins out of her scone. “Yeah, his old nickname in the ring. He didn’t tell you about that?”

Sansa shook her head. “He mentioned being a fighter a while back, but no specifics. It didn’t come up.”

“Oh oh oh! Let me tell it?” Margaery begged Arya. The younger Stark waved at the blonde to go ahead and took a big bite of her scone. Margaery squealed and launched into the story, “Ok, so Bronn told me more about Sandor and I did a bit of digging on my own. Apparently, they entered MMA together back in the day. Sandor rose quickly through the rankings, going by the nickname The Hound. Bronn would have done the same, but his aunt fell ill and he had to drop out for several years. Flash forward to five years ago, Sandor is up for a title match for, wait for it, THE FREAKIN’ HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP, against the champion, Arthur Dayne.”

“Oh my… The Sword of the Morning?” 

Margaery grinned, “The very same! And Sandor was only twenty-one at the time! It was a  _very_ big deal. The week before the match, he’s out with his buddies on a training run, when this  _freak_ comes out of nowhere and stabs him in the leg! And not just with a little knife, it’s a big honkin’ machete kind of knife. Anyway, so Bronn and Jaime run after the guy while the other two stay with Sandor and get him medical treatment. Suffice to say, he wasn’t in any condition to compete in the match, and was laid out in the hospital for months, and then physical therapy for two years. It’s that top notch place, the one you went to after, well, you know... same one Loras went to after that fight that ended badly, Quiet Isles Therapy and Rehab. 

He tried to get sponsors so he could reenter the ring, but no one would touch him. Someone had spread rumors that after his injury, he got hooked on pain meds, and since his brother is Gregor Clegane, the notorious drug dealer, they believed it. He quit trying a few months before you made your debut, and went off in search of...peace and solace, maybe? Bronn doesn’t know, but yeah, he was gone for the past year, only the Gods know where, and now he’s back.”

Sansa gaped at her friend. “Wow. Did they catch the guy?”

“The guy who stabbed him? Yeah. He was a junkie with absolutely no connection to Sandor. He was just high as a kite.” Margaery took a sip from her frappe. “You know, now that I think about it, the little sigil you wear on your fight shirt is very similar to the one Sandor used as The Hound. Size is different though, and the placement. His covered his entire back, where yours is just four inches high, placed over your heart.”

Sansa frowned. She couldn’t remember where she had gotten the idea from, but she hadn’t even heard of the Hound before this morning. “I think it’s just a coincidence, Mar.”

“Or fate!” Margaery grinned. Sansa rolled her eyes but returned the smile. “Enough about that, how’d your date go? I thought that’s why we were here in the first place.”

Arya laughed. “And here I thought we were just relaxin’ and shooting the breeze.” Margaery made a face.

“It can be both. Go on, San. How’d it go? Are you going to see him again?”

Sansa blushed and said with a smile, “Yeah, it went well. We talked a lot, he made me dinner. Homemade lasagna. And dessert!”

“By dessert, do you mean he decorated his ding-dong in whip cream?” asked Arya.

“Arya! Don’t be vulgar. No, I mean actual dessert. He made me lemon cakes! I brought some home with me. They were so good! So cute and little. I haven’t had one like that in ages. He’s actually a really good cook.” Sansa grinned. “And we’re going out on Friday. It’s an outdoor event. Gendry would probably like it, if you’re free, Arya. And I think he said he would suggest to Bronn that he should take you, Mar.”

“Bronn did ask me out for Friday, but he didn’t say where. I’m intrigued! Don’t tell me anymore, I want to be surprised.” Margaery took a sip of her coffee. “So did you tell him anything, um, significant?” she asked cautiously.

Sansa dropped her gaze. Her friends knew her too well. “A bit. I told him about my time ‘off the grid’. Not all of it, but enough.”

“Oh, San, are you ok?” Mar asked as Arya said, “How’d he take it?” The two girls glared at each other.

Sansa laughed lightly, “I’m fine and he took it all quite well. After I told him, I tried to run away, but he stopped me from leaving. He had no hesitation in his reaction. He told me he doesn’t judge me based on what happened to me, only on what I do now. He hugged me, sat me down with Stranger, that’s his dog, Mar. Not the actual Stranger, so stop gaping. Then he fixed dinner, we ate, he surprised me with those delicious lemon cakes, and finally we cuddled on the couch while watching Die Hard. I ended up spending the night again, though this time I woke him up to let him know I was leaving. Got home before you woke up, and started working on my writing. It was  _nothing_ like the last guy I tried dating. I didn’t even get past the basic ‘get to know you’ info with him.”

“Well, he was a dick. And you already slept with the Hound, so it’s not like he thinks you’re opposed to sex,” Arya pointed out, which made Sansa blush again. “What was that guy’s name again?”

“He was a Frey, wasn’t he? Who cares?” Margaery said. “He wasn’t worthy of Sansa anyway. He didn’t meet any of the qualifications. Remember what your father said? He wouldn’t approve of any man for either of his girls that wasn’t gentle, brave and strong. Gendry is plenty of all three, though it took a while for the honorable Lord Stark to see it.” Both Sansa and Arya giggled at that. “And from what Bronn tells me, Sandor is all of those things too. Sure, he’s had issues in the past, but he’s worked on them. Same as you.”

“True. It’s a little different with Sandor though, my issues, I mean. I’ve been trying to figure out why, and I think I did that last night.” She took a sip, collected her thoughts, and continued, “Somehow, he makes me feel...safe. I can’t explain that part. I’ve known him less than a week, but I inexplicably feel safe when I’m with him. When we first met, it was because he saw that I did not want Joff’s attention, remember? And I told Joff that Sandor was my date,” The two girls nodded. Sansa had told them the story during the downtime before her fight. “Well, you know I’ve come a long way, but I’m still a bit iffy on touching and being touched other people, especially new people,” again they nodded, “Yet, when I wrapped my arm around him, nothing. Well, no, not nothing. I felt... _comfortable._ And when we were chatting, I kept pushing myself to do more, to make another move, all the while waiting for something to set off the alarms in my head, but nothing did. I had  _absolutely_ no qualms about sitting on his lap, kissing him, holding his hand, and of course, sleeping with him and then later, actually sleeping in his embrace. I thought ‘maybe I’m cured’, at least until much, much later, when I was at the coffee shop. This guy started flirting with me and I couldn’t stand his touch, even though it was much lighter than with Sandor. Barely even touched me, actually. The very  _aura_ Sandor gave off was one that I instinctively trusted, for whatever reason.”

“Maybe he’s your soulmate?” Arya asked. “Like Gendry and me. I don’t even want to  _think_ of a life without him. We didn’t start off as friends, but the connection was there from the beginning.”

“Oh! Bronn and I were like that too, remember? But we started off as friends. I just felt this...pull, and the more I hung around him, the more I wanted to be with him,” Margaery had a dreamy look on her face as she spoke. “And now…” she sighed happily.

Sansa laughed.  _Soulmates? Doubtful. That’s only in songs and fairy tales._


	18. Sandor: Monkey Wrench

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Monkey Wrench](https://youtu.be/I7rCNiiNPxA)

Sandor looked at the envelope that had been shoved in with his mail. It was black as night, with only his name written in block letters across the front, thick paint red as blood. Well, not his name. His nickname. His _old_ nickname. He turned it over curiously. No return address. No postage either. It had been hand delivered. _Pretty sure that’s a federal offense._

He opened the envelope carefully and pulled out a black heavy stationery paper. Letters cut out from magazines were pasted to it, all red. _Well, someone went to a lot of trouble to send me a warning. Wonder how many magazines they had to buy to do this._

 

 **sTay AWay from**  
**mY aNgeL.**  
**YoU haVe BeeN**  
**waRNeD.**  
**-SSA**

 

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” he said to Stranger, who was napping in the afternoon sun. He tossed the letter and envelope into his messenger bag. _I’ll have to ask Sansa about that later. If she’s not aware of this, she should be. Probably should speak to Bronn first._ They had been dating for three weeks now. It had been the happiest three weeks of his life and he wasn’t about to give her up for some nameless admirer. _You snooze, you lose, pal. She’s mine._

He phone chimed, flashing Sansa’s photo. _Think of the devil..._ After that first dinner, she had convinced him to let her take a photo of him to attach to his contact info. He had agreed, but only if he could do the same. She had been merciful and given him a photo of her blowing him a kiss. He had insisted on not showing the scarred side of his face, but he suspected she had taken a few on the sly anyway, during a slew of “selfies” she had taken. He didn’t admit it out loud, but it made him a little happy that she wanted a photo of his whole face and not just the good side. There had been many more dinners and dates since, and a hell of a lot of sex, but that first one was the most significant to him.

**Little Bird 11:14am I have an appointment this afternoon. Won’t be free until 5:30ish. Want to go see a movie? I’ll even let you pick. We can get dinner after? :***

**11:15am Sure. Want me to pick you up?**

**Little Bird 11:15am On your motorcycle, please? :D Pick me up at 6 at my apartment?**

**11:16am Temp is dropping again. Gonna bring car.**

**Little Bird 11:17am Awwwww...fine. Party pooper.**

**11:17am Yes, yes. I’m pooping on the party by not wanting either of us to get sick.**

**Little Bird 11:18am The first step is admitting you have a problem. :P**

**11:18am See you at 6, little bird.**

He let Stranger out one more time before going to see Bronn. Pulling up to the tattoo shop Bronn called home, he could see his friend hard at work on his latest customer.

“Sandor! Just in time. What do you think of this masterpiece?” Bronn stepped back, setting aside his tools and removing the latex gloves. The woman, a small, petite, platinum blonde with purple eyes waved at him from the tattoo chair. Her back was exposed and Sandor could see the black line drawing of three dragons ripping out of the small of her back. It was incredibly detailed and beautiful work, and would look fantastic even if she decided to leave it as is.

“Your drawing or his?” he asked the woman. She grinned.

“My husband’s, actually. He knows how much dragons mean to me.”

Bronn spoke up, “Sandor, meet Dany Targaryen. Her husband is Khal Drogo. Runs the Dothraki Martial Arts Center.”

“Oh, my, um, girlfriend goes to your place to train sometimes. She speaks highly of your husband’s teaching.” Sandor wasn’t sure how to speak of Sansa, but calling her anything other than his girlfriend felt wrong. While they had said they would only be with each other, they hadn’t put a label on it.

“Dany, this Sandor Clegane. You may know him as--”

“The Hound. One of Westeros’s finest UFC fighters. Are you back in King’s Landing to reestablish your career? I’d shake your hand, but Bronn still needs to bandage me up.”

“Oh! Right. Sorry, Dany.”

Sandor shook his head at Bronn. The man was a genius with ink but it only took small things to distract him sometimes. Turning back to Dany, “Yes and no. I’m going reestablish my career, but not in MMA. I still enjoy it, but it’s not what I want to do professionally anymore.”

“Oh, so, what are you going to do?” Dany asked, eagerly curious.

Sandor smiled. “Depends on if I can get it started or not, but if you ever see a business called, The Hound’s Tooth, come on in and I’ll be glad to show you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just wait for Bronn in the office.”

He gave the woman a slight nod and walked around the corner, down the half-hidden hallway and into the office Bronn used for “the tedious bits” of business. He didn’t have to wait long. Bronn sat behind his desk, looking out the window that gave a perfect view of the front end of the shop. The glass was slightly tinted, allowing light in, but almost no light out. “What brings you to my humble castle?”

Sandor snorted. Blackwater Tattoos was located in a plaza that was built in the style of old Westeros, giving Bronn a reason to call this place his “castle”. Unlike an actual castle, every Sunday morning, he would come in early in the morning to give the place a very thorough cleaning.

“I need to ask you something serious.” Bronn waved his hand, indicating for Sandor to continue. He sighed, still unsure if it was a prank or not, but pulled out the warning letter he received and handing it over to Bronn. “Do you know anything about this? Has Sansa mentioned anything?”

Bronn looked it over, including the envelope. He shook his head, “Damn me. She said a few months back that she was getting an odd letter or two. I told her that if it gets more serious, she should speak to Jaime. He’s quite fond of her, they’ve been friends ever since he started dating Brienne, and he works for the KLPD. Like me, he’s a brother to her. Hold on,” Bronn said, picking up the phone and punching in a number. A few moments later, “Oi, Kingslayer! How’s it goin’? Yeah, I just got a quick question for you. Did Sansa ever come to you with some odd letters from an anonymous fan?” A moment of silence. “She did, ok then.” Another moment. “No, no, I don’t know anything, it’s just that she started seeing a friend of mine, and he received a letter, possibly from the same person.” Yet another silence. “Yeah, sure. Meet you at CRC, let’s say, fifteen minutes? Fine! My treat, you cheap bastard. See you then.”

Bronn hung up the phone. “You free for lunch?” Sandor nodded.

**********

Fifteen minutes later at Cross Roads Cafe, they sat at a table on the covered patio. Sandor was considering the menu when the elder Lannister son plopped down next to them. “Clegane! Long time no see. Still punching smart-mouthed assholes?”

“If I was, you’d be laid out flat already, Kingslayer,” Sandor said wryly.

Jaime laughed heartily. “How did you win over my darling Sansa with that attitude? I swore she’d become a Silent Sister before long.”

Sandor growled at the “my darling Sansa”, trying to remember that Jaime was just a natural flirt, and that Bronn said he was like a brother to Sansa. The fact that Jaime Lannister looked like a maiden’s dream, the fact that Sandor knew beyond a doubt what Jaime used to do with his twin sister Cersei before meeting Brienne, and Sandor’s own insecurities were making that very difficult.

“She likes my pretty face,” Sandor replied, causing Jaime to howl with delight and Bronn to snigger. “Fuckin’ asshats,” though the words had no heat behind them.

After they ordered, Jaime was down to business, donning gloves. “So, what’s this I hear about you receiving a note from Sansa’s secret admirer?”

Sandor dug into his messenger bag again and brought out the mail he had received. “I guess that’s what the SSA stands for then?”

Jaime nodded as he looked it over carefully. “Yeah, he’s been sending her ‘love letters’ for a few months now, but it was only one or two letters, and maybe a rose or bouquet, in the span of a month. Two months ago, it stepped up to three or four letters a week, with a gift of some sort every other week. There have been no obvious threats, just a major creep factor, so the department can’t officially do anything yet. I’ve had Sansa catalog every letter and gift, gave her plenty of evidence bags, even a taser that I told her to keep on her person at all times. She made me stop at a personal bodyguard. I said I would pay for it, but…” Jaime looked forlorn. “I want her to be safe, and I know she can take care of herself, I just...I can’t help but worry about her, you know?”

Sandor didn’t say anything, simply nodded.

Bronn sighed. “You tell her about this yet?”

“No, just got it this morning, and she’s busy with training and work right now. Supposed to meet her later today. I’ll tell her then. On the plus side, our date can only go uphill after _that_ conversation happens.” He sighed as well. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised she has enthusiastic fans, but something like this is a bit much for anyone.”

“She’s stronger than she looks,” was all Jaime said. Bronn and Sandor could only nod in agreement.

**********

They got back to Bronn’s shop nearly an hour later. “Need any touch ups? Or want some new work done? Still can’t believe you’ve only got the one tattoo.”

Sandor shrugged. “My lone dog is the only one I ever felt the need to get. Anyway, I had another reason to come see you.”

“Oh?”

“You said that Tyrion helped you get this place for a reasonable price?” Bronn nodded. “I was wondering if you think he’d help me do the same. I’m looking at this place over near Steel Street. The pricing is outrageous, way more than the property is worth, so it’s little wonder it hasn’t sold yet.” It went against the grain to ask for help, but Sandor had been arguing with the realtor and the owners for nearly four months now and was no closer to his goal than when he started. At least the realtor was on his side, but the owners knew how much he wanted the place and were digging their heels in on the price. He had tried to find another location, but everything else paled in comparison.

“I can talk to him, set up a meeting for you. He’s a fairly generous guy, even more so since he started dating this new girl.” Bronn grinned. “She really keeps him humble.”

“Thanks, Bronn. I really appreciate you doing this.”

Sandor stuck around, conversing with his friend and helping with some of the chores in the shop for a bit, then heading home to squeeze in a workout before going to meet up with Sansa.


	19. Sansa: No One Will Hurt You Again, Or I’ll Kill Them

Sansa stared at the letter. It had come in a silver envelope this time, waiting on the floor after having been slipped through the mail slot. It stood out from the rest of the mail. Margaery and Jeyne had already left for the day, probably long gone before the sun had even risen, to head to a sale at one of their favorite stores, followed by a slew of other stores that or may not be having sales as well. Sansa had been invited, but the thought of being around a crowd of shoppers was more than she could bear and had respectfully declined.

 _Maybe it’s not him. Maybe Sandor decided to be romantic and leave me a special note._ She knew it was not the case. If Sandor had come by, he would have knocked on the door and given it to her himself, along with food he had made especially for her. Her shoulders slumped as she picked up the envelope, saw the depressingly familiar seal and opened it carefully. Inside was a single sheet of heavy stationary. She unfolded it and read:

**My dearest Angel,**  
**For so long, my heart has yearned for yours, for your attention to be on me,**  
**and only me. I have loved you deeper than any other, I have watched you grow**

Sansa sighed, annoyance creeping into her lovely features. It was pretty much like the other letters she had received so far, varying only in length on how he described their imaginary relationship.

**into a fine young lady, despite your unladylike aspirations. You will get over it**  
**in time, I am sure. When you become my wife, you will want for nothing, not**  
**wealth, not luxury, and certainly not my love. I will make you round with child**  
**soon after we are united.**  
**However,**

Her tummy tightened into a knot. This is new. Usually just stops after declaring to knock me up.

 **However, I have noticed that you are hanging around a most unsavory character**  
**as of late. It is bad enough that you insist on living with the Harlot and the**  
**Gossip, and are friends with the Rogue, but this is crossing a line, and I insist that**  
**you cease at once. The man known as The Hound is not someone my dearest Angel  
**should be associating with. I advise you to stay clear of him before something  
**should happen. Something that would put a dog down permanently.******

**Sincerely, SA**

She wanted to tear the letter, crush it, maybe even burn it. How _dare_ this psycho threaten her Sandor. It was one thing to send her creepy letters. It was a _completely_ different thing to threaten--

She stopped and stared at the letter again. A threat. An actual threat. Jaime can use this to start the investigation! Her hands were still shaking, but she carefully took the letter and envelope to her room and placed it in an evidence bag. After it was put away, she picked up her phone and fired off a few texts to Sandor, arranging to meet him later in the day and then dialed Jaime’s office number.

Brienne answered, _“KLPD, Tarth speaking.”_

“Brienne, it’s Sansa. Is Jaime there? I’d like to come in and meet with you two. It’s about my admirer.”

_“Something come up?”_

“Yeah, I think so. Can you set aside some time for me?”

_“Of course! Jaime’s out right now, running down some leads and then he’s supposed to be having lunch with Tyrion. He’ll be back around one-thirty. I’ll talk to him about it then. How about you come in around two? I’ll talk to Captain Selmy as well, give him a head up. Sound good?”_

“Yeah, perfect. If you need me sooner than that, I’ll be at the hospital,” Sansa said, her voice heavy.

“Say hi to Ned for me,” whispered Brienne.

**********

The machines monitoring her father beeped in an annoyingly steady pace. It reminded Sansa of the Asshai water torture. The machine that monitored his heart rate was the one she often watched, but it was much quieter than the rest.

She walked into the room, and kissed her father, a small part of her hoping that today would be the day he woke from his constant slumber. It never was. “Good afternoon, Father,” she said warmly. “You’re looking well.” He always looked well, though he was looking more lean than before the incident. The doctors said that that was to be expected, since he was being sustained on fluids alone. She hated it. Her father was one of the strongest men she had known. He had been the one she leaned on, was her strongest supporter through the years of therapy. He was the one that let her stay with Uncle Benjen to learn survival training, the one that suggested that she start training, to learn how to defend herself, had been her first instructor along with Brienne, it had been him who encouraged her to try her skills in the octagon. Seeing him like this made her heart ache. She came to see him every weekend, and as often as she could during the week. She told him about each of her fights the day after it happened. The nurses had been horrified the first time, when she walked in bruised and battered, but with a huge smile on her face.

Sansa sat down in the chair next to her father’s bed. “Good morning, Father. You’re looking well. Oh, Brienne says hi.” She fiddled with the blanket covering him for a few minutes. “I have good news,” she said. “I’ve been seeing someone. He’s...he’s nothing like my previous boyfriends. You probably wouldn’t like him, at least not at first, but he’s a good man. He treats me with respect and honor. You might remember him, since he used to be a fighter. Sandor Clegane, used to go by the fight name “The Hound”, and he’s friends with Bronn. He’s not like how he used to be though. I’ve watched some of his old fights, I saw the anger in his eyes as he put down his opponents. He still has that same intensity, but that rage is gone.”

She held Ned’s hand in her own. “I’m in love with him, Father. I’ve only known him a short time, but I know this. I can’t explain it. It feels like I’ve known him forever. Sometimes I forget it hasn’t been that long. You would probably tease me, like you did when I was little, and ask if he is my prince.” She laughed a little at the sudden memory, her five-year old self declaring to her father that the boy she met at the library was her knight in shining armor and that she would be marrying him. Now that she thought about it, she remembered that boy had the same dark hair and grey eyes as Sandor. _I guess I do have a type._

“He’s not a prince, not a knight in shining armor, but he’s a wonderful man, Father. I hope to introduce him to you soon. Mother hasn’t meet him yet either, just so you know that I’m being fair on this front, though I haven’t told Mother yet, so please keep it to yourself for now. Arya approves of him. Robb has doubts, but he’s keeping an open mind. Theon and Jon haven’t met him yet. Their busy work schedules and all... Bran and Rickon seem ok with him as well, but they’re teenagers caught up in their own worlds, so that’s the best I can hope for from them.”

“There’s something else, Father. Remember the letters I’ve told you about? They’ve gotten worse. I mean, not in content. They’re about the same, but I’m getting them more frequently. I haven’t told Sandor about it, but after the most recent one, I’m starting to think I should. What do you think, Father?” She often spoke to her father like this, telling him news and asking questions he was unable to answer. The doctors told her he probably couldn’t hear her, but she couldn’t help but do this. She missed their talks, missed hearing his deep, rumbly voice. She missed how he would hug her, and laugh at her awful jokes. She just missed him so much. She cursed the mugger that had put him in this state, that took her father away from her. Her siblings felt the same, though they did not talk about it. It was still too painful, the loss of their father, the heart wrenching wait for him to wake from his coma, the constant disappointment after nearly a year.

“Sevenmas is coming up, just two weeks away. Want to hear what I got everyone? For Mother...” Sansa went on at length and ended up telling him every present she had bought, except his, of course.

“Father, there’s one last thing. I’ve resolved myself to this, about the stalker…” She took a deep breath. “I have no proof, but I have this feeling it might be the same person who kidnapped me all those years ago. It doesn’t matter if it is or isn’t, but it would make this next part easier. I won’t let them hurt him.  _No one_ will hurt him, or me, again. Or I will kill them.”

She kissed him again. “I’ll see you soon, Father.”

**********

She arrived at the police precinct a few minutes before two o’clock. The desk sergeant waved her through before she even said anything. Sergeant Payne was more than familiar with her ties to the station. He was a quiet, scary looking man, but he had never done anything more than glare at her, and she had quickly lost her initial fear of him. His great nephew also worked there, a patrolman who often helped Brienne and Jaime. Pod was always kind to her, but a bit shy. To this day she had no idea what color eyes he had since he always looked at her feet.

Brienne was at her desk, typing away at her computer. Sansa plopped down in the empty chair next to it, holding her box of evidence in her lap. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” Sansa quipped at her friend. Brienne returned the smile Sansa gave her, but did not look away from her computer. Brienne was not a conventional beauty, but Sansa found her to have an exotic look that was much better than Dorne or Assai. It was an amazing combo Brienne had, a kind smile and brilliant blue eyes.

“Trying to finish off some paperwork, Jaime should be back soon. He had an unexpected meeting earlier and his schedule is a bit off. I told him you would be here though.” Brienne typed quickly. “He said he has some news for you.”

“Spilling my secrets, wench? That’s not very knightly of you,” Jaime said, kissing Brienne on the cheek. The unlikely couple were one of the reasons she had kept the smallest hope of finding love, though that hopeful flame had been about to extinguish before she met Sandor.

“Kingslayer,” Brienne said tersely, despite the love in her eyes. “You’re late.”

“Couldn’t help it. Someone forgot to fill the cruiser with gas.”

“You’ve been the one driving all week,” Brienne pointed out.

“Well, I _am_ someone,” he said with a grin, ignoring the roll of Brienne’s eyes. “So, my darling Sansa, what can I do for you?” he asked, taking his seat at the desk across from Brienne’s. Sansa handed him the box and he opened it, looking through the contents.

“The silver one, on the top,” Sansa supplied helpfully. He pulled that one out, holding it up to read it through the clear plastic.

“He threatened Clegane?” Jaime asked. Sansa nodded. “I’ll take this to Selmy. It should be enough to get us started. You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m more angry than scared.” She gave him a small smile. “He threatened someone close to me. I just want to find this guy and punch his lights out.”

“Anger is good, keep that close, but don’t let it overtake you. It’ll make you rash. And don’t engage this guy, if you can help it.” Jaime gave her a rare serious look. “You never know what kind of damage he could do.”

She nodded, “I know, Jaime. Don’t worry. While I want to do that, I don’t plan on looking for the guy. That’s your job.”

**********

She stayed at the station for nearly two hours, going over her notes with Brienne, Jaime and then Captain Selmy. The captain seemed embarrassed by the fact that he had had to ignore her stalker long enough to build up the amount of evidence she brought in. By the time she left, she was mentally exhausted and just wanted to crawl into bed and take a nap. A quick call to Margaery to find out if she and Jeyne were still shopping, they were, and they were now on their seventh store and were still going strong. Jeyne’s anniversary with Theon was coming up and she was on the hunt for the perfect outfit and lingerie for the event.

Sansa hung up with Margaery, and sat on her moped, debating what to do. She still had two hours until Sandor was supposed to pick her up. She had told him she wouldn’t be free until after five-thirty, but that was because she wasn’t sure how long speaking with Jaime and Brienne would take.

She fiddled with a key on her keychain, a very new key, given to her only a few days ago. She had been showing up at Sandor’s place so much that he had given her a key of her own. “Just let yourself in,” he had said. “Stranger knows you, you know the security code, and I know how to get my stuff back from you, if you should feel the need to take something.”

“Oh? And how’s that?” she had asked. Not that she wanted to steal his stuff, but he had made her curious.

“Like this,” he had said, his voice husky as he pulled her close, kissing her deeply, his hands roaming down to cup and squeeze her ass until she was moaning and clinging to him. “Give me your panties,” he had growled.

“Ok,” she had whispered in a daze. He chuckled, and she realized what he had just proven. She had gotten revenge on him later that night, proving she could do the same thing to him.

Smiling to herself, she kicked her moped into gear and headed to his place.


	20. Sandor: Mine/Yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Mine](https://youtu.be/XPBwXKgDTdE)/[Yours](https://youtu.be/gFccdvKehQI)
> 
> Today's cameo is brought to you by the wonderful and talented FancyKid! I apologize beforehand, she is not in for a fun ride. Also, the return of a fan favorite!

Sandor felt at peace in his training room. Stranger hated the room due to the sterile, metallic scents of the equipment and all the loud noises from the weight machines, so he usually left Sandor alone when it was time to workout. Sansa would sometimes join him. He was impressed with the dedication she showed to her training. He kept part of the room clear for the floor mats. Bronn, and now Sansa, would spar with him there. Despite the height and weight difference, she had managed to beat him more than a few times. Each and every time, sparring with Sansa in the training room had turned into “sparring” in the bedroom. He grinned at the memories. 

The room tended to get stuffy after a while, so he had opened up the doors to the outside and about half of the windows. Once he got started, even the temperature in the dead of winter didn’t bother him.

He was using the bench press when a shadow fell over him.

“Well, hell~o,” a syrupy sweet voice said. The woman’s bottle blonde hair was starting to show her roots.

“Mallory. What are you doing here?” he asked, not stopping his workout.

“I heard through the grapevine that you were back in town, thought I’d drop by, see if you’d like to have a bit of fun.” She circled around him, admiring the view of his shirtless torso and  and settling her gaze on his spandex shorts. He was feeling more exposed by the minute. “You’re looking as well as ever.”

“My eyes are up here, Mallory,” he said with a warning. She didn’t take the hint. Instead, she played with the low-cut neckline of her too tight, amply silicone filled, neon green minidress.

“Yes, but that’s not why I came here,” she said. He dropped the weighted bar back into its place with a clang and sat up. She licked her lips, never taking her eyes off his crotch. “We always had fun, didn’t we?”

“Thanks, but no thanks, Mallory. I have a girlfriend now. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to my workout.” He reached for his towel and felt her talon-like nails trace the skin over his bicep.

“Sandor, don’t play around,” she purred in his good ear. “I know for a fact that you haven’t paid a visit to the old haunt in quite a while. Ever since your accident. You must be so backed up, poor baby. A virile man like you has needs, needs I’m more than happy to fulfill.” The heavy cloying scent of her perfume threatened to gag him.

“For the last time, Mallory. I am  _not_ interested in your offer,” he spat out. She still didn’t back down and leaned her asymmetrical boob job into his back.  _Great, now I need a chemical shower._ “Mallory, I was taught to never hit a woman, but you are treading into dangerous territory.”

“C’mon, lover, you don’t even have to clean up, you can push me up against the wall and--” Mallory went flying backwards, nearly kicking Sandor in the head as she flew over Sansa’s shoulder and was pinned to the ground. Sansa was wearing a skirt and he had to fight to not be distracted by the way it was hiked up nearly to her hip, showing off a shapely leg clad in her usual thigh-high stockings. His mouth went a little dry. He was starting to think he was developing a stocking fetish, or maybe it was a just a stockings on Sansa fetish. Either way, he wanted to run his hands over the colorful knit material.

“Sandor,” she said tersely, holding Mallory in a death grip. “I need at least one good reason not to break this bitch’s arm.”

“Sansa! This isn’t what it looks like...”

She looked up at him in surprise. “It looks like she wasn’t taking no for an answer. Was I wrong?”

“Oh. No, you’re not. I guess it  _is_ what it looks like,” he said. “How long were you watching?”

“I came in around ‘Thanks but no thanks.’ You really should get a screen door that locks, by the way,” she replied. “So... why should I not break her?”

“Get off me, whore!” Mallory snarled. Her makeup had smeared when her face had been pushed into the safety mat. Sandor thought she looked a little like one of those clowns you see at festivals that have been working all day. 

Sansa pushed her knee into Mallory’s spine as she held the woman’s arms behind her back, causing the woman to cry out in pain. “I’m sorry, what was that? You propositioned  _my_ boyfriend, then when he turns you down, you kept going. He turned you down a second time, and you lay your dirty hands on him, which is the part I really take offense to, because  _I’m_ the only one allowed to touch him like that, and now you’re  _insulting_ me? First, I’m not a whore since I don’t charge Sandor for sex, but if you really need an insult to call me, I guess you could say I’m a slut for him, since we fuck nearly every night, but that’s usually after the date has gone well. Sex has been the precursor to the dates only a handful of times, wouldn’t you say, Sandor?” He nodded, grinning when Mallory’s eyes filled with confusion. “Second, I’ve got you in a hold where I could easily pop  _both_ your shoulders out of place. One dislocated shoulder is painful enough, but you’d still be able to drive to the hospital for it.  _Two_ dislocated shoulders would make that impossible, and you would need to ask someone to call an ambulance for you. I’m not about to call, and I doubt Sandor is either, but he’s nicer than I am, so maybe he would. That brings me to my third point, how embarrassed will you be when you tell the doctors how this played out? Cops would probably be involved, and I would tell them  _exactly_ why I felt the need to defend my boyfriend from a sexual predator.” 

“I’m not a--” Mallory yelped as Sansa twisted her arm.

“Let’s review. You show up uninvited to a guy’s house, he turns you down for meaningless sex, and when you  _persisted_ to make your unwelcome advances, that’s the part that makes you a sexual predator by the way, you got knocked down by his extremely  _jealous_ girlfriend. The extremely jealous girlfriend  _he told you about_ when he first refused you.” 

Mallory looked like she was about to cry, though Sandor wasn’t sure if it was from pain or the shame of her situation.  _Probably a bit of both._ “Sansa, I’m sure she’s learned her lesson and will be keeping her distance from both of us  _from now on,_ ” he said pointedly. Mallory nodded vigorously.

“Yes, I promise, I’ll stay away.” She sounded like she was close to sobbing.

“Your word means squat to me,” hissed Sansa, “but you can count on mine. I will  _not_ be as gentle if our paths cross again like this.” She let go of Mallory, letting her fall against the floor. She got up, walked over to Sandor, who was still sitting on the bench, and pushed him back down, straddling him and rolling her hips against his. He moaned, his hand immediately going to her hips. He had already been at half-staff from seeing Sansa get so possessive of him. “See this?  _Mine._ Come near him again, and you  _will_ regret it.”

Mallory stood shakily and walked out, avoiding both their eyes. Sandor breathed a bit easier once she was gone, but not  _too_ easily, considering Sansa was still on top of him and it felt incredibly good to have just been claimed by her.

“That was an impressive display of jealousy and dominance all in one,” he said with a smile. “Are you going to mount me now? ‘Cause I wouldn’t say no to that.”

Sansa looked down at him, her anger melting away to shy desire. She pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re not angry?”

“Hells no. That was one of the hottest things I’ve seen you do. I rather like being at your mercy, remember? As much as you like being at mine, I think.” One of the things he liked best about their relationship was that there was no set roles. They were fluid in who led and who followed, though they stood equal with each other in most day to day stuff. He ground his hips up into hers. She bit her lip, trying to not let a moan escape and failing. “So, who’s going to be the submissive one this time?” he grinned, knowing that she was getting too wound up to properly take control of the situation. Especially when she was rubbing against his cock with that dreamy look on her face.

“I, um… I suppose…” she muttered.  _Yep, she’s gone past the point of no return._

“Sansa,” he growled. She perked up, her breath becoming quicker. “Take off your jacket and shirt. Slowly.” She bit her lip again as she removed her jacket, throwing it to the ground, and then grabbed the hem of her shirt and slowly raised it up and over her head. Sandor could see her nipples pucker under the lacy fabric that covered them and become pointy from the cold. She reached to remove her bra as well, but Sandor stopped her, “Leave that on, but your panties need to go. Are you wearing anything else that would get in the way?” She shook her head, getting off of him to remove her underwear. “Good.” He raised his hips to pull off his shorts, his rigid cock standing at attention. He tossed the shorts near Sansa’s discarded clothing. “You may return to your previous position.” He grinned at her. The “command” was more of a formality, she had already been moving towards him. She lifted her long, flowy skirt, keeping it out of the way as she sunk down onto him easily. He gave a small moan as her warmth enveloped him.

He had learned that this was one of her favorite positions, but he was the first person she had really been able to try it with. She had been embarrassed to mention it, since apparently Joffrey had ridiculed it, but Sandor absolutely loved it and honestly thought that Joffrey had been threatened by the power it gave her. He also learned that Sansa had only had one orgasm during sex before she met him, and it was more due to the fantasy in her head than anything Joffrey had done. He wasn’t sure if he should feel grateful to the ones that came before him for making him look better in her eyes because of their ineptitude, or angry that they merely used her for their own release. He had decided on both, though it was just anger at the one that kidnapped her.  _If I ever find out who that bastard is…_ He gripped her hips, thrusting into her possessively from below.  _She’s mine,_ he thought, knowing she had felt the same way earlier. She didn’t notice his change in attitude, her head thrown back and her palms flat against his abdomen as she rode him. “Little bird, look at me,” he growled. He could feel her beginning to reach her peak and wanted to see her as she did. She looked into his eyes, ready to carry out his commands. “You like this, don’t you?” She nodded. “ _Tell me._ Tell me what you like about this, little bird.”

“Yes, Sandor,” she whispered. “I like this. I love this. I love how you feel beneath me, inside me. I love how you hold me, making me feel secure. I love how you look at me and how you say my name. I just lov-ahhHHH~” He felt her clench around him, her palms pressing into his skin as she fought to keep her eyes locked to his. He held her tightly as he thrust into her, finding his own release. She collapsed on him, breathing heavily. He kissed the top of her head.  _She’s mine._

**********

“So what are you doing here? I thought you were busy until five-thirty?” he asked, toweling off his wet hair. They had gone back inside after he wiped down the equipment. He had showered while Stranger distracted her by greeting her enthusiastically and begging to be petted. She was seated at the kitchen table when he came back in, practicing Stranger’s commands and rewarding him when he did well.

“I was estimating that time. Seems like I overestimated, so I decided to come over. Good thing I did, you would have had to deal with that woman all on your own. Who was she, by the way?” She asked innocently enough, but Sandor could hear the edge of tension in her voice.

“No one you need to be jealous of, little bird,” he said gently, bending over to kiss her cheek. “She was a mistake. A very drunken mistake from a long time ago. Even if you weren’t in the picture, I would have turned her down, though I would have probably just kicked her out instead of trying to be diplomatic.”

Sansa giggled at the idea. “Well, anyway, do you want to stay in tonight or go out? I know I suggested going to see a movie, but it’s getting colder than expected.”

“I’d like to stay in, if that’s alright with you. We can watch that show you were talking about the other day. The anime one…” Her eyes widened with delight. He was still somewhat iffy on watching the cartoons, but they were actually kind of interesting, nothing like the Saturday morning ones you would see on Westerosi television.

“Real Bout High School! It’s supposed to be pretty good, despite being so different from the manga. Oh, there is something else I want to do, but it’s not until later.” She looked up at him with a sneaky grin.

“Again? Well, if it’s a few hours from now, I think I’ll have restored my energy by then, but you should take it easy on me. I’m an old man.” He smirked at her.

Sansa scoffed, “Ok, grandpappy, calm down, you’re only two and a half years older than me. You’re usually the one wearing me out,” He chuckled at that. “And that’s not what I meant anyway. There’s a meteor shower tonight and the peak hours are going to be from two til six in the morning. I was thinking, you have that nice deck upstairs, put some pillows and blankets out, we could get some hot chocolate or some wine, and snuggle while watching falling stars.”

“That sounds nice,” he murmured as he started writing down notes. “I’m out of chocolate, but I’ve been meaning to go to the store anyway. There’s a heater up there for nights like tonight, by the way. Not sure if you saw it last time. Also need to get some milk, graham crackers, those giant chocolate bars you like,  jumbo marshmallows…”

“S’mores?” Her eyes lit up.

“Unless you want something else?” he offered. She smiled and shook her head. “S’mores it is then.” There was silence for a few minutes as he wrote out his grocery list.  _Might as well get everything I need. Wonder if Sansa needs anything? I should ask--_

“Sandor.”

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I want to talk to you about, before we do anything else. I meant to bring it up as soon as I saw you, but then there was that whole thing…” she waved her hand in the general direction of his home gym. “Anyway, it’s kind of serious. No, I mean, it’s completely serious, but now I’m nervous and…” she chewed on her lower lip. He set down his pen and turned to face her. She was making him nervous as well. He had a bad feeling about this.

“Go on. You can tell me anything,” he said encouragingly, taking her hands in his and hoping she didn’t notice his feeling of dread. She took a deep breath and settled her gaze somewhere around his collarbone.

“Um, well, several months ago, I started receiving letters from a secret admirer. It was flattering, at first. Then the letters got...creepy. They started sending gifts too. As the weeks went by, the letters and gifts became more frequent. And today, I got one that...well, that allowed me to take it all to the police. You know Jaime Lannister, Tyrion’s brother?” He nodded, feeling somewhat relieved now that he knew where this was going. “He’s been advising me on how to deal with this situation and earlier this afternoon, I went to speak to him about the new development. He and Brienne are going to look into it now. He might ask to talk to you,” she bit her lip again. “The new development...the letter I received today had a not so subtle threat against you in it.”

Sandor frowned. “What did it say?”

“I don’t remember the exact wording, but something along the lines of putting a dog down. They know of your old fighting nickname, so I guess that’s why the threat was worded like that.” 

“How does he know who you are? I assumed it was a fan at first, but you use an alias in nearly all of your endeavors that would expose you to the public eye.”

She shook her head. “My writing is more heavily guarded, but my MMA alias isn’t that hard to see through. I’ve gotten notes in the locker room at events before, but again, not heavily guarded. It’s someone who saw me fight, and figured out that Alayne is not my real name.” She sighed heavily. “I hate this. I’m trying to move on with my life, but one creep after another keeps showing up to try and ruin it!” She slammed her fist down onto the table, startling Stranger. “Aww, sorry boy, c’mere. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Shhh, that’s my good boy.” She scratched on his throat just the way he liked it. Sandor smiled.

“Well, I can take care of myself. I’m a survivor, always have been, always will be.” He leaned in to kiss her, “I’m more worried about you, to be honest. Since we’re on the subject, I need to let you know something, too. I received a letter from your secret admirer today as well. I asked Bronn if he knew anything about it, and he had me speak to Jaime.” She was shocked.

“Jaime never said anything...though he may have gotten distracted by something shiny and forgotten to mention it. Still not sure how he became a cop," she muttered. She looked up at him. "Wh-what did it say?” she asked.

“Pretty straightforward. ‘Stay away from my angel. You have been warned.’ But I promise you, that’s not about to happen. You’re mine and I’m yours.” He hadn’t meant to say that. It was the complete truth, but it was too soon to vocalize it. The words had left his mouth before he realized it and now he was terrified as he held her gaze. “Right?” She nodded, blinking back tears. Relief flooded through him. “Ok, let’s get going, we’ve got about an hour until sunset.”

**********

Sandor watched helplessly as his little bird fluttered to and fro around the aisle. She had insisted on helping and then proceeded to take over. He only had to instruct her on which brands or what size of item he preferred, though she had rummaged through his kitchen and home enough times by now that she knew most of them.

It was the domesticity of the scene that was getting to him, making his heart beat a little faster. He hadn’t let himself imagine anything like this since he was a boy and let his childhood playmate talk him into playing House and also Wedding. She was kneeling at the bottom shelf, studiously contemplating two boxes of noodles, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and found himself facing Bronn’s interesting neighbor, Mrs. MacMillon. 

“I thought that was you!” she exclaimed. “Haven’t seen you around the complex lately. How have you been?”

“Oh, been well. Bronn’s been busy, and his business has had an influx lately, so I haven’t been able to visit with him much. And,” he blushed a little, “I’ve been pretty busy, too. Remember when I said--”

He heard pasta boxes fall and saw a flash of red hair. Sansa was squealing and hugging the older woman. “Mrs. M! It’s been ages!”

“Little Sansa Stark! As I live and breathe! Sandor, this is the girl I was telling you about.” Mrs. MacMillon looked damned pleased with herself.

“What are you talking about? You know Sandor?” Sansa asked incredulously.

“Wait, a better question is, how do you  _not_ know that she’s Bronn’s neighbor?” Sandor asked with a chuckle. 

“Oh, well, I almost never go over to Bronn’s place. Usually see him at his work, at the gym, or out with our friends.” Sansa shrugged. 

“Mrs. MacMillon, I’d like to formally introduce you to my girlfriend, Sansa,” Sandor said with a flourish. “She was the girl I mentioned when I first met you.”

“Oh, I just knew you two would hit it off! Sansa dear, let me tell you…” Mrs. MacMillon launched into a story about of her cats, one that Sansa seemed to be surprised was still alive until the older woman explained that it was fourth cat she had had by that name. Sandor laughed along with them, enjoying the serenity behind the scene.

**********

They lay under the night sky, the stars shining brilliantly as Sandor pointed out some of the constellations. “I can’t believe we ran into my old babysitter!” Sansa said after a few moments of silence. “And that she was trying to play matchmaker with us when she hadn’t seen me in so long. You know what’s really funny? Right before I met you, literally  _minutes_ , I had been thinking that I should become like her. A crazy, but fun old spinster with a lot of pets who babysits the neighborhood kids. I’d want dogs, instead of cats, but you get the idea.” She snuggled closer to him, her leg draping over his. “It’s almost like the universe wanted us to be together,” she said with a giggle. “Oh, I think I drank too much of that wine. I’m starting to sound like I used to.” 

“Oh? How’s that?” he asked, playing with a lock of her hair.

“Like the songs and fairy tales were life, that magic was real. Life is not a song though. Life is truth, and the truth hurts like a bitch,” she said softly. 

“Are you sure you’re S. Stark?” he asked with a chuckle. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“I can write about it. I used to believe in it, just not anymore. Not after the things I’ve seen,” she said softly.

“I suppose you’re right. But...there has to be a reason the songs were written, right? They can be truth as well, but a rare, fleeting, precious truth that most people can’t find. They’re not bad to aspire to, but depending on them to be your own truth can be just as damaging as not believing in a happy ending.”

“You sound like someone I used to know,” Sansa said wryly.

“And who is this great intellect you know that I sound like?” she must have heard his grin because she tickled his side before answering.

“I don’t  _really_ remember him. A boy I knew when I was little, maybe four or five. It was the year before we moved to the house my family currently lives. Sometimes I wonder what happened to him. He was Robb’s age, I think, maybe a little older, but he played with me instead. I think he felt sorry for me. Arya was too little to be my playmate and Bran had just been born. Robb had Jon and Theon to play with, but I didn’t have anyone. He was my first love,” she said shyly. 

“Should I be jealous of this childhood friend?”

She giggled, “Probably not. I wouldn’t recognize him if he walked up to me today. Oh look! The first meteor! Make a wish.” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut.  _I wish we could just stay like this, in this happy little bubble, for the rest of our lives,_ he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, update schedule is switching to everyday, so next chapter will be posted tomorrow, Saturday 12/12/15. Just FYI. :)


	21. Sansa: A Truth Universally Acknowledged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Second Proposal](https://youtu.be/VVaAdARCyU0) Sansa's favorite scene.

She sat in the comfy chair across from Elder Brother. He was writing down notes and reading old ones from their last meeting. Finally he put the pen down and hit the record button on his small cassette player.

“You’re looking better today, my dear.”

She smiled. “I’m feeling better. Better than I have in a very long time.”

“Oh? Any particular reason?”

“I did very well in my last match,” she said. He nodded.

“Yes, I saw. Meribald and I went to watch you compete. You were very impressive. Brienne must be quite proud as well.”

She nodded. “I also am up for a renewal in my contract with Acorn Hall Publishing. As you know, my brother Bran manages my writing career as well, since I never see myself going past my current stage of MMA.”

“Though you could, if you wanted to,” Elder Brother interjected.

She smiled, “That’s what everyone says, but for now, I’m content where I am. Anyway, Bran is negotiating for a five-book contract, three romance and two mysteries, and is pushing for a bump to twenty-five percent in royalties. I already have some ideas for the next book, and my editor is hopeful about them. Officially, I can’t submit anything until the contract is settled, but Mya is more than willing to read over my notes and give me feedback, even if I end up leaving for another publisher.”

He smiled, but shook his head. “There’s something else. I can tell. What is it?”

She studied her nails, a small smile playing on her face. “I met someone. And we’ve been seeing each other for about  a month now.”

He looked shocked. Sansa was slightly proud that she had managed to flap the unflappable Elder Brother.

“My dear...that’s...wow. And your issue with touching others?”

She shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “It’s still an issue, just not with him. I don’t know why, but I just feel comfortable with him and...it’s a little embarrassing to admit, but you’re sworn to secrecy…”

He raised his hand as if swearing on the Book of the Seven, “Doctor/Patient confidentiality is a sacred oath.”

“I had sex with him the first night we met.” She struggled to not laugh at the bug eyed expression on Elder Brother’s face. “I know, it’s so not me, even without including the touching issue. I just...I can’t explain it. I trust him. Implicitly. The issue with touching...it’s become the exact opposite with him. I want to touch him all the time! Even if it’s just holding hands. And he makes me feel...well, so many things. As soon as I laid eyes on him, it was like he was a magnet and I was iron. I don’t think I could have walked away from him, even if I wanted to, which I didn’t.”

“Sansa, did you ever feel like this towards Joffrey?” She shook her head. “Harry?” Another shake. “Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself that since I met him. What makes him different from any other male I’ve ever met and not felt like this towards? The answer is simply, because he’s him. There is no other like him. Sandor is...a little crude, but gentle. He’s honest to a fault, though he will sometimes embrace the adage of ‘if you can’t say something nice…’” Elder Brother chuckled at that. “He listens to me, he sees me. He doesn’t have sweet words, but he doesn’t threaten me or berate me. He encourages me, he shares his world with me, and makes me feel...I don’t know, more? Makes me feel good, makes me want to be better, to be a better person. He’s dependable, brave, and oh gods, he’s so strong! A body like the warrior and he can fight! He and Bronn, I’ve seen them spar and it is just fantastic.”

“You are very taken with him,” Elder Brother said with a smile. “And he is as well? With you?”

She nodded. “I think so? It certainly feels like it. I mean, we’re around each other a lot, and it feels comfortable, but it’s not the ‘stuck in a rut’ kind of comfortable. It’s more like...um...like how my parents are, they’re madly in love even though it’s been nearly thirty years of marriage.”

“Like thirty years of marriage? That’s impressive. Do you see yourself taking that next step with him? Or is it too early?” he asked.

She thought about it. Even the mundane chores were ok, as long as they were together. It was a little unnerving that she could easily picture herself with him a year from now, five years from now, even sixty, should they both live to be that old. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“How does that make you feel?”

She breathed deeply. “Nervous, but excited. Scared. Happy, definitely happy. We argue sometimes, but it’s more like heated discussions rather than a fight. Like pirates versus ninjas.”

“I’m sorry, did you say…”

“Pirates, which he says is better, versus ninjas, which I say is better. A ninja would totally beat a pirate. They have stealth and shadow techniques on their side!” she exclaimed.

Elder Brother chuckled. “What else can you tell me about him? About your relationship?”

She grinned.  _At least I’m not at a loss for material._

**********

Stranger was snoring as she lay on the couch reading from the old book. He had wedged himself between her legs and the back of the couch, and every so often licked her toes. He chuffed when they both heard the front door open. Footsteps approached and a small bag fell into her lap.

“For me?” she asked innocently, batting her eyes at him. Sandor leaned over the back of the couch and grinned.

“If you want them. I think they’re a bit too sweet, but you might like them.”

She opened the bag and pulled out a pink hard candy. Popping it into her mouth, she let the candy roll around her tongue, savoring the flavor. “A bit tart at first, but it evens out after a few seconds. Not strawberry. Rhubarb?”

“Good. Texture?”

She let the candy slide to the front of her mouth. “A bit rough. Feels like the inside of my mouth could get cut at any moment.”

“Hmmm...should probably let it roll in the machine a bit longer then. Anything else?”

“A slight bitterness, green tea, maybe?” He nodded. She heard a slight pop from inside her mouth, followed by another and another. “Oh, it’s fizzing now!” she exclaimed in surprise. He grinned broadly.

“I tried a new technique for the inside. Flavor should be changing, too,” he said.

She scrunched up her nose, “Hard to tell, the fizzing is a bit distracting from that.”

“Good to know. Final grade?” he asked.

“B minus. I like how it started, and the fizz was a nice touch, but it became way too complicated after that. And the green tea was also a distraction. If you want to include it for health benefits, then I would say put it behind the fizzy bit.”

He wrote that down in a notebook he pulled from his back pocket. “Got it. I’ll try another batch of this one tomorrow. I have a few more for you to try, but first, you sit tight, I have to wash that mountain of dishes.”

Sansa smiled as she turned back to her book. Sandor had been borrowing a professional kitchen from one of Tyrion’s properties and testing out various recipes that he didn’t have the equipment for at home. Every day he would bring her something to try. At first, it had been because she was simply his girlfriend and that’s what he thought a boyfriend was supposed to do. Then he realized that while her cooking skills were lacking, she had a very sophisticated tongue and would judge his creations fairly. She rather liked being a food taster, though her editor had complained that her latest notes had too many food analogies. Sansa had merely shrugged and said she would try to cut back on them. She couldn’t help what inspired her, much to Mya’s dismay.

She heard footsteps approaching her again. “Well, it seems that a helper elf has been by. All the dishes are cleaned and put away,” Sandor rasped in her ear as he pulled her up over the back of the couch and kissed her. “Did you see anything?”

She giggled and brought her legs over the couch as well so that she was now sitting on the high back, facing him, with Sandor standing between her thighs. “Yeah, ugly little blue haired troll came running in, bounced around the kitchen, then ran out before I could stop him. Crazy, right?”

“I didn’t know Tyrion had dyed his hair.”

She gave a melodramatic gasp, “You’re so mean! What did Tyrion ever do to you?”

“Nothing. I’ve just known him way too long.” He grinned. “You didn’t have to do the dishes, you know.”

“I know, but you fed me three days running, plus all the times before that! I was starting to feel guilty. Plus, I needed time to think about my latest story. Doing chores helps with that. You need more window cleaner, by the way. I sort of used the last of it.”

“There was half a bottle left,” he pointed out.

She raised an eyebrow. “You have a  _lot_ of windows. A lot of  _large_ windows, I might add. A lot of large windows that haven’t been cleaned in a  _really_ long time.”

He rolled his eyes, “Ok, I cook, but I don’t really clean. Mostly just dusting and dishes, but that’s out of necessity.”

“Well, how about I help out with that? It would make me feel less guilty about letting you feed me so often without returning the favor.” She picked at the buttons on his shirt shyly.

“I enjoy cooking and baking, little bird. Even more so, now that it’s for you.” He kissed her, lightly at first, then deepening it in the way that curled her toes. The thud of Stranger’s tail on the paperback book interrupted them. Sandor reached down to move it. “Pride and Prejudice?”

Sansa blushed. “Yeah, one of my favorites. I love how Mr. Darcy is so haughty and somewhat hateful in the beginning, but his love for Elizabeth softens him up and makes him a better man. I like to read it every so often.”

Sandor noticed the well-worn edges of the cover and pages. “I can tell. What’s this ear mark?” He opened the book to the marked page.

“Wait! No!” Sansa grabbed at the book, but Sandor’s arms were longer. 

“Oh, look, a highlighted part, ‘You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once.  _My_ affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.’” Sansa managed to make a grab at the book when he brought his arm down. “That was kind of odd. What’s that about?”

She pouted and held the book to her chest. “It’s not odd, not when you know the context.”

“Which would be?” he asked in honest curiosity.

“You’ve never read ‘Pride and Prejudice’? Or seen any of the adaptations?” she asked. He shook his head. “Ok, well, don’t laugh. Short version ok?” He nodded. “In the book, Elizabeth meets Mr. Darcy, but they dislike each other at first. Well, he likes her, but he hides it behind unpleasantness. She dislikes him, but finds herself warming up to him despite his boorishly civilized manners. He ends up falling in love with her and proposes, but she’s got this horrible view of him, sees him as an arrogant ass who’s looking down on her. Which, he is, even insults her as he’s asking her to marry him. She refuses him despite the fact that he is such a great catch. Stuff happens, letting Elizabeth see that he’s really not a bad guy, and has even changed a bit, becomes less arrogant, less of an ass and even goes so far as to protect her family and her sister especially from incredibly damaging events. He proposes to her a second time, which is the part that is highlighted, and she accepts this time.”

“Kind of a dull proposal,” Sandor commented.

“Yeah, but way better than his first proposal, which he really mucked up. There have been several tv adaptations and one really famous movie adaptation, and  _that one_ has the best proposal revamp and is my personal favorite. Sometimes I like to pop the DVD in and just watch that scene. Since you like romance, we should watch it sometime. I think you’d enjoy it.”

He nuzzled her. “Sure. Got any plans for tonight?”

She hummed her pleasure. “Yeah, we both do. Bronn and Mar wanted that double date, remember? Renly is having that gallery opening and since he and Loras are a couple now, Margaery is insisting we all go, and we're having dinner together before going to the exhibit. I think Jaime and Brienne are also planning to go.”

“Aw, crap. I completely forgot,” he said and she laughed as his erection poked her thigh through their clothing.

“Well, we’ve got a couple hours or three before we’re supposed to meet them. I’m sure we can manage a quickie or five in that time,” she purred in his damaged ear. “If you think you can keep up,  _old man.”_

She laughed again as he growled and picked her up to carry her to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help myself.... :3


	22. Sandor: Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Beautiful](https://youtu.be/eAfyFTzZDMM)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

Sansa fussed over what he would be wearing to the gallery opening as he stood nearby in his boxers and watched her rummage through his closet. They had both already showered and she had been horrified to learn that he had just been planning to wear a nice long sleeve t-shirt and black jeans.

“Margaery will kill you, and I rather prefer you alive,” was all she said before she opened his closet. She had pulled out three different shirts, four pairs of slacks, seven ties and three belts, then subsequently rejected each and every one when she held it up to his body. Stranger had wandered in and was watching them with boredom.

“Little bird, I’m starting to feel a little discouraged here,” he rumbled as another shirt joined the three on the bed. He wasn’t really. He was actually quite amused at the sight of her determination to find the right outfit for him, and thoroughly enjoying her near nakedness. She had long since lost any inhibitions about her scars and was currently dressed in only her black panties and matching bra.

She grimaced, “Sorry, but none of these are just right! I want you to match my dress as close as possible. And when was the last time you went shopping for dress shirts? Most of these are so old, I’m not sure you’d fit in them anymore. Like this one,” she held up a white button-up shirt, “this is the largest size you have, but you must have bought this a while ago, because there is no way your shoulders or chest would fit into it!”

He scoffed and grabbed it out of her hands, shrugging it on. “See? It still fits,” he said with a little satisfaction.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Ok, ya big lummox, try buttoning it.”

He shrugged and started at the bottom. He thought he remembered buying this shirt during the time he had been dating Pia. It had been a bit tight then, which Pia had enjoyed looking at. Now, as he was four buttons to go, he realized Sansa was right. Struggling to secure the buttons, he had a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead from the effort. “Still fits,” he said, trying not to breathe too deeply. He ignored her pinched mouth as she tried not to laugh or smile.

“Alright, so it fits. And you feel comfortable moving around in it?” she asked coyly. He nodded stiffly. “And...what about,” she closed the gap between them, “if I asked you to take me in the coat room?”

He knew what she meant, but played dumb. “Well, if we’re getting our coats, of course, since I can easily walk around.”

She smirked at him, having none of his bullshit, “No, I did not mean when we retrieve our coats. I mean, when I pull you into the coat room or other private space,” her eyes took on a predatory gleam as she licked her lips and looked him up and down, “and order you to _fuck me_ right there against the wall. You see, my dress will allow for easy access, and while I will be wearing stockings, except for these flimsy little panties you see right now, you will have no other barrier to contend with. Unless, the shirt _prevents_ you from doing as I will ask.” She looked at him innocently. He swallowed hard, his adam’s apple straining against the too tight neck of the shirt. “So, I’ll ask you one more time. Does. That. Shirt. Fit?”

He fought with himself. On the one hand, he didn’t want to have to go buy a new shirt just for Renly’s photo exhibit. The guy was only an acquaintance and Loras was sort of a friend that was also scared of him. Tonight would be a good time to make amends on that, now that he thought about it. On the other hand, the thought of finding a quiet spot, of Sansa being pinned to the wall by him, of the look on her face when she came…

He closed his eyes and said in defeat, “It doesn’t fit.”

She patted his shoulder, ignoring a button that popped off his chest as he relaxed his body. “Don’t worry, we still have time. Let me change and we’ll stop at Tyrell’s for a shirt.”

**********

“So were you planning all along on luring me to a dark corner and having your way with me, or was it just a ploy to get me to admit that my shirt didn’t fit?” he asked, pulling into the parking lot of Tyrell’s Menswear. Sansa grinned at him.

“I had been thinking about it, but hadn’t planned on it, no,” she admitted. “I’m curious about the whole ‘doing it in a public place’, but I’m not sure I’d be able to _actually_ do it.”

“Same here,” he said. “Well, let’s get this over with.” He got out and shut the door to his car, watching Sansa as she also exited the car and walked around to join him. “Not that I’m complaining about the look, because you look damn sexy in that, but aren’t you cold?” he asked.

She looked down at her outfit. It was a yellow dress, accented with black lace and a somewhat translucent black gauzy material that made up the sleeves to cover her scars and tucked into the top of her dress. Over that she wore a black leather motorcycle jacket, with black strappy heels and black nail polish adorning her cute toes. “It’s not the warmest thing, but as long as we don’t stand out in the cold for long, I should be fine.” She hooked her arm onto his and led him inside. “So when _was_ the last time you went clothes shopping for a suit?”

He shook his head, “I honestly have no idea. MMA fighters don’t normally need them, and when I did, Tyrion just had his assistant bring me the clothes for that night.”

“Ok, well, I called ahead and explained the situation. They have someone waiting to help us, and they know we’re in a hurry, but I would like to come back and get you at least two full suits. You never know when you might need them.”

“Oh, little bird, you want to dress me up so nice, but what you don’t know is that no matter how much you polish it, a turd is still a turd,” he said dejectedly. She let go of his arm and stepped in front of him. He expected her to scold him, to tell him not to berate himself. He did not expect her to slap him and he felt his skin prickle where it had been touched by her palm. She hadn’t used all her strength, just enough to make it sting. He stared at her. “Little bird, what--”

“Don’t you _dare_ try to defend that remark,” she said angrily. “You seem to still believe that you are somehow below others, so I will say this once and once only. I do _not_ waste my time on people who are trash, and I am _not_ wasting my time on you. I only give that to those who are _worthy.”_ She softened her voice and wrapped her arms around his middle. “Sandor, why can’t you see what I see? You are a wonderful person,” she whispered.

“Little bird…”

She looked up at him, placing her hand on his scarred cheek. “This...this does not define you. Yes, it makes you more distinctive, but so do your eyes, so piercing and revealing your every emotion. These scars are just a part of you, and frankly, I wouldn’t want you to not have them.”

“You wouldn’t?” he asked dubiously, raising an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

She gave him a gentle smile. “Because, while the scars do not define you, they and the event that caused them helped shape you into the man you are today. Would I still love you as much as I do if you hadn’t gotten them in the first place and were therefore not the same man that stands in front of me right now? Maybe, maybe not. We might not have ever met to begin with.”

“By that logic, then you should accept my complaints as being a part of me as well,” he said with a chuckle. She smirked and slapped his arm lightly.

“Not a chance. I won’t rest until you have an opinion of yourself that is at _least_ half as high as my opinion of you. That being said, if you say something bad about yourself again, I will deny any and all affections for a week.” She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Now, come on, I’m starting to freeze my cute butt off out here and you still need a shirt that won’t cause Mar to kill you and possibly me.”

“Well, if it’s to save your butt, which is definitely the cutest I’ve ever seen, then I guess I have no choice.”

**********

The exhibit was titled “Beautifully Dangerous,” and Sandor had been given an advert about it a few weeks back when he originally agreed to attend, but hadn’t actually read the damn thing and had no idea what to expect, except that it was Renly’s art and it would either be photographs or paintings.

A large photo of the artist and a canvas covered in swirling masses of black and white paint, dashed with bits of red, greeted them at the entrance of the gallery. Sansa signed both of their names into the guest book as he tugged at the sleeves of his new shirt. It was a very deep black color that matched his pants. Sansa had been eyeing him appreciatively, her eyes taking in how the shirt hugged his frame, looking like she wished it was her doing the hugging instead. His grandmother had always told him black was a good color on him, but he hadn’t believed it until Sansa insisted on it over a yellow shirt that would have matched her dress perfectly. “If you get this shirt, I swear I will do anything you ask while you wear it,” she had promised.

“Anything?”

 _“Anything._ And you don’t need a tie, just keep the top button unbuttoned.”

A woman took their jackets at the coat room and handed Sandor a little numbered ticket. Tucking it into his shirt pocket, he offered his arm to Sansa and they walked toward the main gallery room.

“What is this exhibit about again?” he asked.

“You’ll see. I think you’ll really enjoy it,” she said with a smile.

They rounded the corner and Sandor came face to face with a large photo. The subject of the photo was cropped to hide the face, but he would know that body anywhere. “You’re the exhibit?” he asked. She giggled. He looked back at the photo. She was in her fighting outfit, the one she wore in the ring, except the shirt was dark grey instead of yellow and did not have her emblem on the front. She stood in a fighting stance, her fist aimed directly at the camera lens. Though he could not see her face, her entire body radiated the aggressive force she became when fighting.

“I’m just part of it,” she said. “Renly came to the gym to see Margaery about something, and caught one of our training sessions. It was a few months before I met you. He was fascinated and asked us if we’d let him take photos. My therapist thought it would be good for me, as long as I felt comfortable during the photo shoot, so I agreed. All of us are in it, Arya, Mar, Brienne and myself, even Mother, but not in the same context as the rest of us. We agreed to it as long as our faces were obscured or cropped out. Last month, he decided it was ready for an exhibit. So, do you like it?”

He nodded, his eyes already sliding to the next photo.

**********

Renly and Loras caught up with them near the end. “Sansa, darling! So glad you could make it! What do you think?” Renly asked.

“It’s wonderful! You managed to catch everyone so perfectly, the attitudes, the power… It’s just breathtaking, Renly,” Sansa said. “Sandor was just about to tell me which one is his favorite.” The three turned to the scarred man.

“Uh, it is actually a tie, between the one at the front, and this one,” he pointed to a nearby photo. It was one of Sansa again, though this one had her facing an opponent that looked an awful lot like Bronn, his arm in an armbar as Sansa was screaming a warcry. Her face had only been partially cropped in order to capture the scream.

“Oh, that _is_ a good choice,” Loras chimed in. “You have a good eye, Sandor.”

“Thanks, I guess,” he said. Renly and Sansa had started chatting about their favorites of each featured subject, giving Sandor an opportunity. “Loras, may I speak to you in private?” The other man looked wary, but nodded and moved over to the photo of Sansa and Bronn.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

Sandor shook his head. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just...I know we haven’t spoken in a while, and I think it’s because of when…” he paused, a little embarrassed to say it.

“When I hit on you?” Loras supplied with a suppressed smile. Sandor nodded.

“I just...I feel bad about how I reacted, and I wanted to apologize. I’d really like it if we could be friends again. Just...well, with the understanding that I have no interest in fucking you. No offense, but you’re not really my type, even if you were a woman.”

Loras chuckled. “Fair enough. I was pretty drunk that night, and I had been nursing a crush on you since you saved me from Gregor. I knew you were straight as a flat iron, but that many beers made me forget why it would be a bad idea to act on my crush. I am completely over it, by the way. Renly is the only man I want to be with. So, I will accept your apology, if you will accept mine.”

“Deal,” Sandor said with relief. “Hey, since we’re back to being buddies, can you tell me what it would take to get a print of this photo?” He pointed to the one they were standing in front of.

“Oh, what size do you want?” Loras asked.

“Uh, regular size?”

Loras laughed, “Ok, what do you plan to do with it? Hang it on the wall like a poster, frame it, maybe carry it in your wallet like a memento?”

“Oh, um, frame it and put it on the wall.”

“Then you’d probably want an eight by ten copy. Forty stags and I can get it to you by tomorrow,” Loras said. “I’m guessing you’re one of ‘Alayne’s’ fans then?” he asked.

“Yeah, new fan, but a faithful one,” Sandor said, smiling, reaching for his wallet.

Loras studied him carefully as he pulled out the money for the print. “You’re in love with her.”

“What??” Sandor exclaimed. “No, it’s...that’s...we’ve only known each other a month!”

“And yet…” Loras paused, “you are completely and hopelessly in love with her.”

“I…”

Loras held up his hand, “You know what? Forget the forty. You can have a full size poster, on the house. It’ll be delivered to your place on Monday.” Sandor tried to protest. “Nope, not hearing it. Now, I have to go circulate a bit more. I can see at least three people from here who are itching to buy some prints as well.” Loras wiggled his fingers in goodbye, a knowing smile on his face as he left Sandor speechless.

**********

Sansa joined him a few minutes later, minus Renly, who was also circulating and talking to other attendees. Jaime was arguing on the other side of the room with Brienne. It sounded like Jaime wanted to buy all the prints of Brienne, and Brienne was trying to convince him that they had no space for all the photos.

“You ok?” Sansa asked him. He nodded. “Good, because I was talking to Renly and he mentioned that there is one more spot in this place to check out.” She led him behind one of the movable supports that held three large photos of Arya and Margaery and down a short hallway. The hallway ended in a darkened alcove and an emergency exit.

“Ok...what are we looking at here?” he asked, utterly confused.

She placed her hand against the wall. Anyone looking down the hallway from the other side wouldn’t be able to see her until they were right next to her. “Can’t you tell? I found us a ‘coat room’,” she said with a mischievous smile.

Sandor grinned. In his panic over Loras’ startlingly accurate deduction, he had completely forgotten about their earlier conversation. He pushed her up against the wall, needy kisses exchanged between the two. “Are you sure about this? Anyone could come down that hallway and see me balls deep inside you.”

“I’m sure,” she gasped as he nipped at her throat. “Please, Sandor, I need you inside me.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” he asked. He slid his hand down the front of her dress and then up her thigh. His fingers brushed against the silk stockings she wore, and then the garter belts that were holding them up. _So that’s what she meant._ He found the fabric of her panties and slipped his finger past them. She was wet and ready. “I had you earlier, twice, satisfied you sufficiently, I thought,” he said, teasing her. “Was that not enough?”

“It...it was,” she said breathily. “But...you...in that shirt...those pants...that outfit… I need you again.”

“Tell me,” he growled playfully. “Tell me why. Why this outfit? What makes it special?”

“You’re outstanding in just regular clothing…” she mewled, “but in that...you’re _devastating_ to my self-control.”

He grinned, pleased with her answer. “What is your request then, my lady?” He was stroking her clit, two fingers sliding in and out of her torturously slow.

“Against the wall, front to front,” she demanded. He nodded. _Another favorite position of hers, though we’ve never tried it while standing up._

She bit her lip, watching him as he undid his pants and belt, freeing his cock and shoving the clothing down a bit. He didn’t want the zipper or the belt buckle to accidently hurt her in their zealousness. They hadn’t ever tried having sex while mostly clothed either. He raised her fluffy skirt up and pulled her panties down to her thighs. They caught on the garters, and rather than taking the time to remove them carefully, he simply ripped them off of her. She squeaked a protest, but he silenced her with a kiss. He hooked her leg over his arm, bracing both hands on the wall behind her. Easily guiding himself into her, he kissed her again and began thrusting. She had to stifle her moans, covering her mouth with her hand.

He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “You know, I was wanting to find a dark corner as well. My own self-control was being sorely tested by _your_ outfit and by all those wonderful photos of you out there.”

“You don’t say-- Sandor,” she gasped. “My heel...it’s slipping!”

He hooked her leg over his other arm before the heel of her shoe gave way. She was now completely suspended between him and the wall, unable to move, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Close one,” he whispered. She nodded vigorously, biting her lip to keep from moaning. “Are you...?”

She nodded again, “The angle… you’re hitting both spots, ah! _Simultaneously!_ Oh gods…”

 _Have to remember this,_ he thought as he felt her cunt begin to contract around his cock. He swallowed her cry of pleasure, kissing her hard as she came. A few thrusts later and he did as well. He stood there, holding her against the wall, both of them panting.

“That was...wow…” she said with a small laugh. “A plus for Sandor.”

He laughed too, carefully letting her legs down one at a time, before slipping out of her. “Well, I did put in my best effort.”

“My legs feel weak,” she whispered. Her eyes went wide as he was cleaning his cock with her torn panties.

“What? What is it? If it’s about the panties...I can replace them. I will happily buy you more,” he said.

She shook her head, forcing her knees together. “It’s not that, I’m dripping!”

Sandor stared at her and then broke into laughter. She glared at him, but he pulled her skirt up again and pressed the panties to her cunt, smiling as she gave a slight moan. He wiped away as much of his cum from her body as he could. “Better?” She nodded grudgingly. “Downside to having sex in a public place. Next time, one of us has to bring a towel.”

Her eyes shot up to meet his, debating on if he was serious or not. A smile crept across her face. “Definitely. For next time.”

They left soon after, her ruined panties stashed discreetly in his pants pocket, until he could find a safe place to toss them out.


	23. Sansa: Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dreams](https://youtu.be/Yam5uK6e-bQ)   
> 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
> 
> 
> **Adult Stranger** \- "Cane corso temi 1 1024x768x24" by Claudio Domiziani - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 2.5 via Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cane_corso_temi_1_1024x768x24.png#/media/File:Cane_corso_temi_1_1024x768x24.png

She was running down her usual path, Stranger at her side. Soon, the path would curve, taking them into the park that was really just a large expanse of clearing. It was mostly used for sports teams and not as a playground for children. The familiar foliage gave way to a large expanse of grass as her footfalls echoed in the morning air. She laughed as Stranger shot ahead, chasing a flock of birds. The laughter died in her throat when she saw the bright red leaves of the weirwood tree in the distance, the eerie face carved into it with care. _What the… That doesn’t belong here…_

She jogged over to it, Stranger running in circles around her. That was when she noticed he was about four feet off the ground. _Is this...this is a dream?_

Two children ran past her, a familiar voice calling out to them. She turned and saw her father seated on a bench next to her, a book in his hands. She gasped, he looked so young! The previously empty park was now filled with people, children running and playing on the swingsets and playground.

“Don’t go past the weirwood, kids!” he called. “I need to be able to see you at all times or we’re going straight home!”

“Yes, father!” the little girl called out. Sansa looked at her, her jaw dropping a little. _That’s me! I must be about four years old there. Who is…_ She looked at the other child, a slightly older boy with dark short cropped hair. His face was a blur, but it was clear that the two children were good friends. Baby Sansa was holding his hand and looking up at him in admiration. _My first love. Is this a memory then?_ She wanted to get closer, but her feet wouldn’t move.

She heard Ned chuckle next to her and mumble, “Silly kids.” He turned back to his book, waiting for the children to be ready to go back home. Sansa turned back to the kids. Baby Sansa was holding both of the boy’s hands, saying something to him. It was hard to make out. She placed her small hand over his heart, and her other over hers. He followed suit, causing Baby Sansa to grin. Older Sansa smiled as well. _I never realized how different my hair was compared to when I was that young._ Baby Sansa was nearly a brunette, though the red streaks in her hair that would eventually become the main color were evident.

“I am yours, and you are mine,” she heard clearly from the young girl. The boy repeated the words, his voice tender with emotion. _If this is a memory, then it’s possible I was his first love as well._ That made Sansa smile again, and she wondered what had happened to her childhood love.

Her father suddenly shot to his feet and was running over to the children. “Sansa!” he said sharply, causing both past and present Sansa to wince. “What are you doing?!”

“Getting married, Father,” Baby Sansa replied meekly. Her companion was holding her hand again in solidarity.

“Married… Sansa! You are too young for marriage!” her father exclaimed.

“But we said the words!” Baby Sansa said, stamping her foot on the ground in a huff.

“The words?” Ned asked.

The blurry faced boy pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and handed it to Ned. “She said she wanted to do this,” was all he said. Sansa peeked over her father’s shoulder as he unfolded the paper and read the title at the top of the page.

_Ceremonies of the Old Gods. Damn, I was a cheeky little child._

The scene went quiet, as if someone had turned down the volume to zero, though she could see how upset her father was getting, making sharp gestures with his hands while Baby Sansa puffed her cheeks out and hung on to the arm of her “new husband”. Sansa shook her head. She was startled by a noise behind her.

She turned and saw Sandor. He was working in his kitchen. He was wearing the grey apron that matched his eyes, an old t-shirt, and board shorts, though he wore his boots, making for an odd outfit. She ran up to him, “Sandor! You’ll never believe…” She trailed off. He kept working. She waved a hand in front of his face. Nothing. _I guess he can’t see me. Shouldn’t I be able to control my own dreams? How does that work? I know Bran mentioned something about it once. Just concentrate on what you want to happen?_

Another noise startled her, this one Sandor heard, too. A growl and then a yip, followed by a high-pitched whine. _Stranger!_

“Stranger!” Sandor hissed and ran out of the kitchen, dropping the bowl of batter on the floor. Sansa followed him. He stopped short near the front door. She stood next to him, horrified by what she saw. A masked figure, dressed in all black, was standing over Stranger’s motionless body, a knife sticking out of his throat. “You sonovawhore!” Sandor snarled. It happened in slow motion. Sandor leapt towards the figure, as the intruder raised his arm, the barrel of the Mikken forty-five glinting evilly in the lamplight. Sansa tried to rush forward, but again, her feet were rooted to the spot. A shot was fired, then another, and another. Sandor crumpled to the floor next to Stranger.

“No…” Sansa cried softly, her knees buckling. She fell to floor, barely catching herself with her hands, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “Why? Why would you do that?” she asked the intruder.

“Because you are mine,” he replied.

**********

She woke with a start, her heart beating rapidly inside her chest. Sitting up in bed, she looked around, not sure where she was at first, the nightmare of losing Sandor still fresh in her mind, the good part of the dream was a vague and distant memory. Slowly, she recognized that she was in her own bedroom. Her fingers wiped away the very real tears on her cheeks, then found the switch of the lamp next to her bed, flicked it on and flooded the room with soft white light. She looked at her room, trying to anchor herself, to not let the fear seep into her wakefulness. Her yellow dress from the art opening two days ago was freshly cleaned and hanging high on the door of her closet. Her writing desk was closed, her laptop safe and secure under the rolltop. Various photos of friends and posters of movies decorated two of the walls, interrupted by the lone window and the door to her room, though even that had a poster of her favorite musical, Singing In The Rain. Her collection of DVDs took up a whole wall, her collection of books took up another. The clock next to the lamp told her it was barely past midnight. She fell back against the bed, sighing heavily. She had only gone to bed two hours previously, after Margaery convinced her to have a girls night in with Jeyne, Brienne and Arya.

The too real feeling of the nightmare was gone, but the uneasiness remained. Throwing off the covers, she pulled on some sweatpants and layered a sweater over her nightshirt. She shoved another outfit into a bag, grabbed her purse, phone and keys, and headed out the door. The light under Margaery’s door was still on, so she knocked softly.

Margaery answered quickly, her phone in her hand. “San? Something wrong?”

 _“Sansa? You ok?”_ she heard Bronn’s voice from the phone.

Sansa shook her head. “I had a bad dream, a nightmare, and I just... I really need to see Sandor right now. I wanted to let you know, in case you wanted to spend the night at Bronn’s or let him come over here.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I can give you a lift. Bit cold out to be riding around on Frodo,” Margaery said.

Sansa shook her head again. “No, I could use the air. I’ll text you when I get there. I have to make an extra stop, so it’ll take a bit longer than usual.”

Margaery grabbed her arm gently, Sansa was too tired to hide the flinch, but Margaery didn’t let go. “Sansa,” her voice filled with concern, “do you want to talk about it?”

Sansa shook her head a third time. “No, not right now. Possibly later. I just really need to get to Sandor.”

“Ok, be safe,” Margaery said, letting go.

**********

Sansa parked in front of the police station. The night clerk signed her in. Podrick Payne was on duty and she headed straight for him.

“M-miss Sansa,” he stuttered. “What are you doing here? I mean, it’s good to see you.”

She gave him a weak smile. “It’s nice to see you, too, Pod. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be brisk, but you are working with Jaime and Brienne on my stalker case, are you not?” He nodded. “Good, I received another letter. I was going to wait until Jaime was on duty, but I was driving by anyway, thought I’d stop by and drop it off now. Most of the recent ones have been pretty much the same as the first threat against my boyfriend, but this one...” She dug into her bag and pulled out the rich black envelope. The blood red seal on the back was broken from when she read it earlier in the evening. "I received it a few hours ago." Pod pulled on gloves and opened it carefully. His eyes went wide when he saw the contents.

“This is…”

She nodded, feeling very tired all of a sudden. “I know.”

The heavy red-colored cardstock had a picture of Sandor glued to it, taken the night of the art gallery. He was standing alone. The stalker had cut the picture so that his head was separated from his body, then taken a black marker and X’d out both of Sandor’s eyes. Across the top and bottom, in large angry handwritten script, was written, **Cut him out of your life. Or I’ll do it for you.**

**********

She arrived at Sandor’s place twenty minutes later, slightly regretting not taking Margaery up on her offer. She was greeted by a happy Stranger. After re-arming the alarm system, she knelt on the floor and hugged the large beast. “I won’t let him get to you, or your master,” she whispered to the dog. “I swear to you, on Lady’s grave, I will not lose one more person I love.” Stranger looked at her quizzically. “You would have liked her,” she said with a chuckle, wiping away the tears that sprang fresh from her eyes.

She stood up and walked towards the bedroom, leaving her jacket and bag on the couch. The room was dark and she could hear the soft snores of Sandor as she eased the door open. She kicked off her shoes and removed her sweater and sweatpants. Carefully, she slipped in between the sheets, trying to not wake Sandor up, but failed. He was startled awake. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” she said softly.

“Cold feet,” he muttered, pulling her close. “What are you doing here?”

“I had a bad dream,” she said. Her hands touched his face, then his shoulders, his chest, his hips. She needed to know he was here, that he was ok.

“Sansa?” he asked. She could hear the concern.

“Sorry, I can’t talk about it, not right now. Too soon. I just… Hold me. I need to feel you, need to keep you close.” She felt the bed shift behind her, a warm furry body pressing into her back, a soft chuff moving a lock of her hair.

Sandor groaned, “Stranger… Get off the bed.”

Sansa smiled, “No, let him stay. I’d feel better knowing both of you are here.”

Sandor sighed heavily, but acquiesced.. “Whatever makes you comfortable, little bird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry...it's a horrible way to start off the week, but at least there was a bit of fluff at the end. I don't know how many of you keep up with WWE, but after last night's TLC match, the bittersweet tone of today's chapter seems appropriate.  
> Tomorrow will be better, I promise. Lots and lots of fluff.


	24. Sandor: Heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Heartbeat](https://youtu.be/iZyuxNxQvbE)   
> 
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

Sandor marvelled at the change in his home. It was just so much... _cleaner,_ and now had touches of Sansa all over the place. He had lived in that house for several years, except during the time he stayed at Quiet Isles and his time abroad, but it had never felt so homey before. She hadn’t been kidding when she said cleaning was her way of getting around writer’s block either. Every time she cleaned, she would frown and say, “You know what would look great here?” He would shake his head and ask, inevitably letting her put whatever she thought would look nice. She had always been careful to not overstep any boundaries, though he honestly didn’t mind her changes to his house. His once spartan house had new life breathed into it with the personal touches he had never bothered with before. Every piece she added was something she knew he would like, something that was his style, yet also hers, since he couldn’t help but think of her whenever he looked at the new additions. 

His favorite was the framed photo of the two of them that hung next to the front door. She had jumped on his back and snapped a selfie before he could stop her. Not that he would have. Sometimes, they were very adult-rated, triple X, not suitable for general audiences, and then other times, it was like a second childhood. They would take Stranger to the park and end up playing childish games like Come Into My Castle, or Knights and Maidens, or just racing each other, though Stranger usually won those. Sometimes a trip around town ended up becoming a silly adventure. His favorite was sleepovers, just holding her as they lay in bed. He thought back to a week ago, when she had shown up in the middle of the night. She never did tell him what her bad dream had been about, and he hadn’t pushed her, though he had urged her to go talk to her therapist about it. Clearly, it was something that was bothering her.

He was starting to wonder if he should ask her to move in.  _Maybe after Sevenmas. Shit, I need to think of a gift for her. Wonder how hard she would laugh if I put a bow on my dick? Wonder how long it would take for her to “unwrap” her gift once she stops laughing?_ He chuckled at the idea.

The doorbell rang, pulling him from his thoughts. Stranger ran ahead of him and barked once at the door. Sandor pushed him to the side before opening the door and greeting Tyrion Lannister, his former manager and long-time acquaintance. They had never been all that close, despite the length of the acquaintance, but Sandor had always respected the little man.

“Clegane! So nice to see you again. Been ages, hasn’t it? Heard you’re dating Sansa Stark. Oh, looks like the rumors were right,” the short man said, looking at the photo. “So, now that you’ve got a handle on your merchandise, you are ready to talk about the property you are interested in?”

“Yes, come in to the kitchen, we can talk there.” Sandor closed the door and led Tyrion to the now spotless kitchen. Tyrion took a seat and brought out a tablet. Turning it on, he brought up an app. Sandor placed a small plate of cookies on the table with two glasses of milk. Double chocolate chip with cayenne pepper, Tyrion’s favorite. Never hurt to butter the little lion up.

“First off, what’s the address of this property? I’ll be able to tell you if I can help or not with that first.” He reached for a cookie. “Oh, my favorite!” he said, taking a big bite. Sandor chuckled. 

“2828 East Steel Street. It’s a small corner storefront that’s been for sale for the past five years,” he said, watching Tyrion enter the address into the app. 

“Ah yes, I can see why you’re having trouble. I won’t burden you with the legalities, but give me a month, no more than two, and I’ll get you that property.” Tyrion munched on the cookie. “In the meantime, my girlfriend loves this dessert from her hometown in Lorath, but I can’t seem to find it anywhere. If you can make it for her, I’ll consider this a fair trade.”

“What is it?” Sandor asked, intrigued. Tyrion smiled. 

“Here, I brought some photos of the ones her mother used to make. It’s called mille-feuilles, and no baker in all of King’s Landing is willing to try making it without tasting it first, which sort of defeats the purpose. I could fly someone in from Lorath, but Shae would get upset at the expense. And trust me, she would find out.”

“I’ve tried this before,” Sandor said.

“You have?” Tyrion asked in surprise.

Sandor nodded. “During the year I was gone, Stranger and I spent some time travelling, around Westeros and in the Free Cities. I was aimless at first, depressed because even you couldn’t find sponsors for me to re-enter the UFC, but when I was in Dorne, I stopped in a cafe there and ate the most delicious pastry. It set off a spark in my brain, a memory of...someone I knew in childhood, whom I would bake for, and that gave me an idea. Like you just pointed out, a lot of bakers in King’s Landing are pretty limited in their wares. I want to bring the tastes of the world here. So I set out to learn as much as I could from my travels.”

“I see. That explains why you want this storefront. The facility is ideal for a bake/confectionary shop, and it’s central to a lot of the people who would enjoy a taste of their home country.” Tyrion picked up another cookie. “And you’re damn good at it, too. Who would have guess that the fearsome Hound of the UFC also bakes like an angel?”

Sandor gave him a wry grin, “Are angels known to bake well? I feel more like a mad scientist or a wizard when I’m in the kitchen.”

Tyrion waved him off, and ate the last cookie before downing both glasses of milk. “Whatever you want to call it, you bake really well. I don’t suppose you…”

Sandor rolled his eyes and retrieved the box of cookies he had known Tyrion would ask for. “Just make sure you leave some for your girlfriend.”

Tyrion laughed. “Of course. You know, I just want to say, I’m glad you’re the one dating Sansa now. I’ve known her for a while now, ever since she dated Joffrey--”

“Joffrey? Your nephew? That little punk is the one Sansa dated in high school?” Sandor demanded.

“Oh, I thought you knew? Didn’t you save her from him the night you met?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize he was  _that_ Joffrey. She never mentioned his last name. It’s not exactly an uncommon name, plus I haven’t seen him in more than ten years. Not since that run in at Casterly Rock Manor.” Sandor shuddered.

“Ah, yes, the unborn puppy incident. Father was furious that someone gave a ten year old a knife like that. Coco was fixed shortly after she healed, and all the pups pulled through. Your grandfather was very proud of you. I was, too, for that matter. It’s not everyone who gives Joffrey  _exactly_ what he deserves, after all.” 

“And Sansa dated him?”

“Well, by the time they met, he had learned to hide his monstrous nature better. I don’t know why they broke up, but I’m glad it happened. I only regret she transferred to another school and that it took so long to get back in touch with her. She was a bright child, a delight to be around. She was more somber when I met up with her again, but slowly, she seems to be returning to how she used to be, before life got her so down. That has been speeding up lately, I suspect it is because of you.”

Sandor shrugged, but smiled, hoping it was true.

**********

He sat on the couch alone. Sansa’s contract with her publisher had finally been signed, and she had to submit three possible story ideas, along with a rough draft of the first chapters for each. She had been working on one, but still had two more to do. She planned to write after her training session and didn’t expect to be able to come by until very late that evening, if at all, though he could see that she really wanted to return. Sandor insisted that her work, training and then sleep came first. He had kissed her forehead and told her if he saw her before morning, he wouldn’t cook for her for a week. She had pouted, but grudgingly agreed and left.

He considered letting her set up shop in one of the empty rooms of the house. He had never intended to live in such a large house, but his grandfather had bought the property specifically for him before he passed on, and it seemed a waste to not live in it. He did like the architecture, and the surrounding property, it was just so...big. He heard Stranger whine from the front hall. The dog had been laying on the carpet, waiting for Sansa.  _I swear, that dog likes her more than he likes me and I’m the one who feeds him!_ That wasn’t actually true. Sansa had started feeding Stranger and taking him out in the evenings on runs when Sandor was making dinner. She often had a forlorn look on her face as she watched the black dog wolf down his food. He had asked her once about it, but she just shook her head and said she just missed her dog. He had wanted to ask more, but she didn’t seem to want to talk about it.  _Must have passed away._ He could understand that. His previous dog, Gen, had passed away many years before, and he still didn’t like to talk about it, despite how happy a relationship they had had. It had taken him a while to get over Gen’s passing and be able to accept a new dog into his life.

He heard Stranger chuff and walk back into the living room. He gave Sandor a look that said, “This is all your fault that she’s not here.”

Sandor just rolled his eyes and patted the spot next to him. Stranger climbed onto the couch and nestled himself in the corner, glaring at Sandor.

“Look, it’s not my fault! She had to work, and by the time she was going to finish, she wouldn’t be getting here until really late. Or early, depending on how you look at it. It was  _better_ that she stayed at her own apartment.” Stranger sighed deeply and put his head on his paws. “I know, I miss her too. She’ll be back again soon enough.”

The house was too quiet. When was the last time it had been just him and Stranger?  _Too long,_ he supposed. When Sansa had her girls night, Bronn and Jaime had insisted on dragging Sandor and Gendry out as well. Theon had been out of the country again, and was thus spared most of the torture of karaoke night, though Bronn had gotten him on video chat for a while.  _What the hell did we even do before Sansa? Watch a lot of tv, cook a lot of food, and read a lot of books. Speaking of…_ He grabbed the paperback Sansa had brought him a few days before.  _The Girl Who Cried Wolf,_ by Ser Blue Winters.  _Now is as good a time as any,_ he thought as he cracked the book open. He saw her handwriting on the inside cover page. “To Sandor, Hope you like this one. All my love, Blue.” He smiled. Stranger whined as Sandor turned to the first page. “Oh, fine, you big baby. Chapter one: The snow was falling hard the day the miller’s wife was found murdered--”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the by, in honor of Roman Reigns winning on Raw last night, there will be another update today. Second update will be in the morning, sometime after 6am CST USA.


	25. Sansa: Baby It’s Cold Outside/Take Me Home, Country Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Baby It’s Cold Outside](https://youtu.be/-EJ1SBAO1HU) (Muppet style)  
> [Take Me Home, Country Roads](https://youtu.be/1vrEljMfXYo)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

Sansa woke slowly, her brain registering the time as she stared at the clock on Sandor’s bedstand. It had been a little over three weeks since the night they stayed up watching the meteor shower and now it was two days before Christmas, the day she went home, and most importantly, today was the day she was introducing her boyfriend to her parents. Well, as much as she could, since her father was still in his coma. His grandmother had gone on a trip with her friends for the holidays, leaving Sansa an opportunity to invite Sandor to come with her to her parents’ house. He agreed, if she came to see his grandmother for the new year party she threw every year.

She stretched sleepily under the comforter, careful not to wake Sandor. She had mentioned casually to her mother about seeing Sandor the week before. Catelyn had been floored by the news, but was eager to meet the man who had changed her daughter’s mind about dating. She could practically see her mother’s mind working out the details of the wedding, but Sansa had warned her to not say anything like that in front of Sandor, that it was too early to be thinking of marriage.

“Your father and I decided to marry after knowing each other only five months!” she had exclaimed. Sansa had rolled her eyes at that. Her parents were a special case, a love so strong that even a coma hadn’t stopped it. _But you wouldn’t mind if Sandor asked you, would you? Now who’s getting their hopes up?_ Sometimes she really hated her inner monologue. She looked over at Sandor. _Mrs. Sansa Clegane. Yeah, that...sounds nice. Oh, gods, I’ve been listening to Mother too much!_

The scent of coffee tickled her nose and she finally kicked her blanket off. Following the scent, she found Bronn in the kitchen making pancakes and eggs. Mar was nowhere to be seen, but the coffee smell would rouse her soon enough if she was still asleep. Since her siblings and their respective partners had taken off to Winterfell earlier in the week, and since Bronn and Margaery were going to caravan with Sansa and Sandor, they had all stayed the night at Sandor’s place to save a bit of time in the morning. Bronn’s aunt had passed away several years ago and he spent most holidays with the Starks now. Margaery’s family was out of the country at the moment, and her brother Loras was spending Christmas with the Baratheons, so she had opted to join them as well. The trip was a ten hour drive, and even half an hour less in the car was a welcome thought. Plus, Sandor had recently redone the guest bedroom, claiming that he was inspired by Sansa redecorating of his house, and wanted feedback from actual guests. This had seemed as good an excuse as any.

“That smells wonderful. I hope you made enough for everyone,” Sansa said, reaching for the coffee maker. She filled her favorite mug with the wonderful liquid, adding in two generous scoops of sugar and a bit of creamer and milk.

Bronn laughed, “Seven hells, Sansa, of course I did! What kind of guest do you think I am?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Never thought about it?”

“You ready to head back to the old homestead?” he asked, flipping the silver stag pancake expertly.

“Yeah, I guess. More nervous about introducing Sandor. First time I bring a guy home and all. At least Father was moved back home. Oh, you did know that part, right?” Sansa asked as she savored her first sip. Margaery came padding into the kitchen, making happy noises as she reached for her own cup of coffee.

“Cat had mentioned it, actually, but she wasn’t sure about the idea at the time. Here, your breakfast, milady.” He slid a plate in front of her. She picked up a fork and was about to cut into the pancake when Bronn said, “You know…”

She raised an eyebrow, “Yes?”

“Well, Sandor has a nice home gym, with sparring mats. Before you eat, want to go a round or two? Margie can be the ref.”

Sansa set her fork down. “Why would I want to do that?”

Bronn grinned, “Because! It’s been ages since we sparred, and the last time was for that photo shoot. Neither one of us were going full power on it.”

“Who’s going full power on what now?” Sandor asked, entering the kitchen and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Me and Sansa, sparring, no holding back,” Bronn said simply.

Margaery shook her head, “I don’t know, Bronny, doesn’t seem fair.”

Bronn scoffed, “Sansa and I have sparred lots of times. This will be nothing new.”

Margaery grinned, “No, sweetie, I meant for you. Sansa was only going about fifty percent in that photo shoot spar. You were doing about seventy-five, and she still beat you. I mean, that was the point of the shoot, but still.”

Bronn frowned. “Ok, I think I’d know if Sansa was going easy on me.”

Sandor raised an eyebrow, “Would you?” Sansa pressed her lips together, trying to hold back a smile. _Well he just guaranteed that Bronn won’t be letting this go._

“That’s it, no breakfast for anyone until we settle this!” Bronn demanded, pulling off his Kiss The Cook apron and heading towards the gym.

**********

Much later that day, Stranger skidded excitedly from window to window in the back seat of Sandor’s classic Impala, Bronn’s truck not far behind them. Margaery and Sandor had forbidden him to spar before their trip and Bronn had been pouting all morning. It was only when they stopped for lunch that he had finally spoken to Sansa. “Sorry I was being a big baby about the match,” he muttered. Sandor and Margaery were discussing the pros and cons of having breakfast again for lunch and were ignoring them.

Sansa shrugged. “It’s ok. We can spar at Winterfell. It’s no big deal. Robb’s been updating Father’s gym there. He’s planning on moving Jeyne II and the kids back to Winterfell once he starts training for his first UFC match.” Bronn had been back to his usual cheery self after that.

 

 

**********

**Jaime 1:31pm Got the results back on that last letter you brought in. Not good news. Call?**

**1:32pm No, on the road. Spotty reception. Just send it in text.**

**Jaime 1:39pm There was trace amounts of DNA, the stalker is getting sloppy. Possibly devolving. He is angry about your relationship with Clegane, and it’s sending him off the deep end. That’s not all. The DNA we found was a match for your kidnapping. I’m bringing in the detective who worked on that case. He retired last year, but I know him, he’ll want to participate. Be careful, Sansa. Keep your taser on you, and your wits about you.**

**1:42pm Thank you, Jaime, for letting me know.**

**Jaime 1:42pm Already here at Winterfell, btw. Brienne is insisting I not wear my Klaus outfit.**

**Jaime 1:46pm You there?**

**1:47pm Just texted Brie a good hiding spot for it.**

**Jaime 1:47pm Great. My wench and my darling are in cahoots. Woe is me.**

**********

Now that Winterfell was in front of them, Sansa felt the apprehension of introducing her boyfriend to her parents re-gather in her tummy. Sandor’s music filled the space with tunes as classic as his vehicle and Sansa sung along with the few she knew the words to, trying to calm her nerves. On the way over, she had told him about her home, how it was her Father’s family’s place and they had moved back there when her Uncle Brandon had passed away many years before. She warned him that it would be even colder here than in King’s Landing, since they were not only farther north, but also at a higher altitude.

The house was immense, the grounds even more so. She blushed at little when he whistled at the sight of it. Getting down from the car, they were greeted by a pack of six large dogs, five males and one female, that immediately started sniffing at Stranger. He was a bit skittish, not used to other dogs as large as himself, but he saw his human and his human’s mate were at ease, and that was all he needed. The steam from all the dogs’ breath created a small fog as they sniffed at each other happily. Sansa cooed at the female dog in particular. “Pretty girl, who’s my pretty girl? Have you been good? I bet you have.” She scratched the dog behind the ears.

“And who’s this little lady?” Sandor asked. He had already grabbed their bags from the trunk.

“She’s no Lady,” Arya piped up. She had been close behind the dogs, her husband Gendry Baratheon and her five-year old son Eddard Baratheon right behind her. “My Nymeria is as vicious as they come. _Hound_.” Arya’s greetings to Sandor always sounded like a vague threat to Sansa’s ears, but she knew they got along. More or less.

“Wolf Girl,” Sandor said in return. “Grab this bag, would you?” Arya broke into a grin and obliged. Gendry was already bringing in the other bags. Little Neddy attempted to help.

As she carried the bag and walked alongside Sansa, Arya began, “San, Rickon and Bran are in the living room. You are not going to believe who they brought home with them! Did you know Bran is dati--”

“Sansa!” she heard her mother cry out. She hadn’t seen her in several weeks, though they spoke on the phone often enough. She hugged her mother, her nervousness back in full force.

“Mother, I’d like to introduce to my boyfriend, Sandor. Sandor, this is my mother, Catelyn Stark.”

“Oh my goodness,” Catelyn’s face went white as she looked at Sandor. Sansa frowned. Many people were a bit taken aback when they saw Sandor’s face, but this seemed a bit much. _Mother is usually much more diplomatic._

Sandor went crimson. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Stark. Sorry, I guess Sansa didn’t mention my...um, face…and scars...”

“Sandor Clegane? Little Sandor, grandson to Elida Clegane?” Catelyn asked. That surprised Sansa. Sandor frowned, but nodded. Catelyn turned to her daughter. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating _him?_ ”

Sandor looked very perplexed and more than a bit defeated, but said, “You’re not very good at mentioning last names, are you, little bird?”


	26. Sandor: This Looks Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I'm Going To Go Back There Someday](https://youtu.be/ryEjm3k6uY0)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

Sandor felt the warmth leave his body as Catelyn Stark looked at him in what could only be described as horror. He thought she asked him about his grandmother and nodded at her name.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating  _him?_ ” the woman demanded of Sansa.

“You’re not very good at mentioning last names, are you, little bird?” he asked, remembering the shock of learning she was a Stark.

Sansa got defensive at that, “Well, we shouldn’t be judging others by their families, now should we?” He laughed at that.

“That’s not the point, San,” Bronn chuckled. Sandor had forgotten that he and Margaery had pulled up right behind them. At least that had broken the tension a bit. Her mother turned back to him, this time with stars in her eyes.  _Uh...that’s new._

“And he still calls you little bird… It’s like fate! Oh my goodness, come in, come in! How have you been? Is your grandmother doing well? I haven’t spoken to her in ages! Is she still feeding the neighborhood children those wonderful baked goods?” Catelyn rambled, ushering them all inside.

“You...know my grandmother?” Sandor asked.

“Oh! Do you not remember? Well, I suppose you were very young at the time. Follow me, I’ll show you to your rooms. Now, let’s see, it was right before we moved here, before the, um, camp incident.” He did a double take to Catelyn. “Yes, I heard about that. Our family lived down the street from your grandmother. She would take care of Sansa in the afternoons and would always bake those lemon cakes my darling daughter loves so much. You know, she once ate so many, she threw them all up, but was immediately ready for more.”

“Mother!”

“Ha ha, gross, San,” Sandor heard from Arya.

“Told ya,” Bronn chimed in. Margaery just giggled.

“Oh hush, all of you,” Catelyn admonished them. She turned back to Sandor. “Anyway, it was during the summer. You were visiting your grandmother. I had taken Sansa to the library to pick out some books for the week. She was just a small little thing at four years old, and so independant! She insisted on getting her books herself. Well, one book was a bit too far out of her reach, so she decided to push this plastic hippo-shaped chair over to the bookshelf while I wasn’t looking and stand on it in order to reach the book. Unfortunately, the hippo was meant for sitting on, not standing, and she slipped off its surface. It would have been a nasty fall, would have had to go to the hospital, at the very least. She was saved at the last second by a boy, who was in town visiting his grandmother. A boy who became her devoted playmate, introduced her to lemon cakes and called her his little bird.” Catelyn smiled at him warmly. “Care to take a guess who that boy was?”

**********

Sandor stood in the room that had been assigned to him. He was looking out the window, but he wasn’t seeing anything. Strong, lithe arms encircled his waist from behind. He felt her press her forehead into his back.

“Sandor, are you ok?”

“I remember you,” he whispered. “Not all of it, but some of it. I remember seeing you fall and throwing myself so that I could catch you before you hit the ground. I remember you following me around like a shadow after that, once you learned I was only five houses away. You were so lonely. I had completely forgotten until your mother reminded me.”

“She mentioned an incident? Was she referring to your scars?” He nodded. “Interesting. Well, all of this… It does explain a lot,” she murmured.  _Wait, what?_

“What do you mean?” he asked, turning around to face her.

“I don’t remember a lot either, but I told you a bit about the boy from my childhood. It was one of my best memories.”

“Oh, right, he was your first love. Well, I guess,  _I_ was your first love.” Suddenly, he felt lighter. She smiled shyly. 

“Yeah, I suppose so.” He couldn’t help the cocky grin as she pulled him into a kiss. “But, I mean, it explains why I trusted you so quickly. I may not have recognized you, but my subconscious did.” She kissed him again. “I trusted you when I was little, and I trust you now. You would never hurt me, not like the others.”

“No, little bird, I would never hurt you.”

**********

Sansa led him by the hand down one hallway after another. It felt like a maze and he commented on it. She just shrugged and said, “You get used to it after a while.” They stopped in front of a large oak door that was ajar. She knocked tentatively and pushed it open. Pulling on his hand, she led him inside.

“Father, it’s Sansa.” She spoke quietly. “I brought someone to meet you. This is Sandor. Sandor Clegane. Sandor, this is my father, Eddard Stark.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir. Again, it would seem.” The man on the bed looked like he was sleeping. He recognized Eddard Stark from the pictures he had seen at Bronn’s place. He had wondered why the man looked familiar when he had never met him in person, and had chalked it up to Ned just having “one of those faces”. He had a vague recollection of once looking up at the man, while a little girl held his hand and call him her knight. Ned had shook his hand and praised him for saving his silly daughter. Sansa had huffed at that and clung to Sandor. She had looked like one of those little sparrows with her feathers ruffled.  My little bird. Then and now. Seems like the floodgates have opened on my memories. Nana is going to have a field day with this.

“Father, we’re all home for the holidays. I hope you will be able to join us, but if you can’t, I’ll bring you your present.” She leaned down to kiss her father’s cheek. “I’ll come back later and tell you all the latest news.”

She was still holding Sandor’s hand and led him out of the room.

**********

Dinner was a lively affair. He looked over at Sansa sitting next to him. She was dressed in a deep green, long sleeve sweater dress that hung down to her knees. He loved how it showed off her strong legs. He was wearing a matching green tie with his white button up shirt and pressed slacks.  _Casual business attire, I suppose._ He felt a little uncomfortable dressed this nice, but it helped that the other men looked like they were in the same boat. Except for Robb, who looked like he wore suits all the time and was uncomfortable because he was missing the coat.

All seven Stark children were home, plus their significant others and children. Robb, his wife Jeyne and their two children, Jon and his rockstar girlfriend Ygritte (better known by her stage name, Wildling), Theon and his wife Jeyne (though she was very different from the other Jeyne and was dubbed Jeyne I since the Starks had known her longer), Arya and her husband Gendry (Sandor planned on grilling him later on cars, now that there ample time) along with their son Neddy, Bran and his boyfriend Jojen, and the youngest Stark, Rickon and his girlfriend Shireen Baratheon, daughter of Senator Stannis Baratheon. Plus the addition of close friends, Bronn and Margaery, Daenerys, her husband Drogo and their son Rhaego, and Brienne Tarth and her fiance, Jaime Lannister, who was apparently pouting over a missing costume.  _Shit, there’s a lot of high rollers at this table._ Tyrion was invited as well, but he was with his new girlfriend’s family this year. He sent his regard with Jaime, along with a promise to visit the day after Sevenmas with Shae. Tyrion had promised to speed up the property deal, since Shae had been delighted by the mille-feille, and had reciprocated that delight to Tyrion. Catelyn sat at the second highest seat, leaving the highest seat empty for Ned, and the third highest seat empty for the missing Benjen.

“Welcome, honored guests,” Catelyn said, standing up so that everyone could hear and see her. “I am so pleased to have my family and our friends back at Winterfell for the holidays. Some faces are familiar, and have been a part of our family for many years now.”

Sansa whispered to him, “The Jeynes married into the family very young. Ten and eight years ago, respectively. Gendry married Arya four years ago.”

“But their son is…” Sandor whispered. 

Sansa grinned. “I know, tell you later.”

“And some faces are new,” Cat continued.

“This is the first time  _anyone_ has met Shireen. Jojen is our neighbor, but we had no idea he and Bran were an item.” She was leaning into him, her scent surrounding him.  _This is nice. I’m kind of glad Nana decided to go to the Volantis casinos for the holidays. Only way this could be better is if she was here too. Probably would be if I had told her I’m dating Sansa Stark. Ha, guess the little bird isn’t the only one with trouble mentioning last names. Hope Nana doesn’t lose the car again, though._

“Some faces are missing, but they are not forgotten.” Catelyn lifted her champagne flute, “Let us raise a glass and make a toast, to old friends, to the new, to those that are gone, and to those that are merely out of sight at the moment.” 

The doorbell rang, startling Catelyn and everyone else.

“Mom, were you expecting someone this late?” Arya asked. It was only seven in the evening, but considering everyone had started gathering in the dining room nearly an hour ago, Sandor supposed it could be considered late.

“No, I’ll go get the door.” Catelyn put down her champagne. Arya waved her mother away.

“I got it.” Arya pushed her chair back noisily. “Anyone make any big announcements while I’m gone and I  _will_ take sweet revenge.” She looked pointedly over at Sansa and Sandor. He didn’t even have to look to know Sansa was blushing furiously. Catching her hand under the table, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. Gendry held Neddy on his lap, who had started entertaining the table with a story about a caterpillar he found and done battle with, when they heard Arya exclaim loudly, “What in the  _Seven Hells_ are you doing here?” Gendry attempted to cover the boy’s ears, but it seemed futile, considering it was Arya and she probably said stuff like that all the time.

The younger Stark girl could be heard stomping back towards the dining room. Sandor almost felt sorry for whoever was at the door when he saw the anger clearly written on her face, but he knew her well enough to know that if she was this angry, the person probably deserved it.

_“Mother,”_ Arya said through clenched teeth. “Aunt Lysa, cousin Robert, and  _uncle_ Petyr are here for the holidays. Along with their bodyguards.”

“Oh for the sake of the Seven,” he heard Sansa mutter. “What are they  _doing_ here?”

“Unwelcome relatives, little bird?” he whispered to her. She nodded.

“I’ll tell you more later, but short version, that’s our uncle by marriage I told you about. He is not to be trusted. Also, you’re familiar with their security.”

“Cat!” a thin, impeccably and flamboyantly dressed man called out as he walked into the room. He was followed by a portly woman, who looked like a fun house mirror version of Catelyn, a very thin, sickly looking boy, and three men he never thought he’d see again. 

“Kettleblacks,” hissed Bronn. Sandor suppressed a bitter laugh.  _Some things never change._ The chances of them starting something at the Stark homestead was minimal, but still there.  _I’ll have to keep a close eye on them._ The way they were eyeing the women at the table was making him uneasy.

“Lysa! Petyr! I didn’t know you were coming. Why didn’t you tell me? We’ll have to make room for you… Oh, the table is already pretty full…”

“Nonsense, Cat. Look, there’s two empty spaces, so we just need one more for Sweetrobin,” Petyr said jovially, striding over to Ned’s space and sitting down before anyone could stop him. Lysa followed suit, though she took Cat’s chair, leaving Benjen’s chair for her sister. Sandor felt Sansa stiffen as they watched. “Oh, and Cat, some of my associates will be dropping by in the morning. Business to discuss. They won’t be staying here, but if they could join us for breakfast?” 

Cat nodded in defeat. “Of course, Petyr. That will be fine. I’ll let the chef know. How many do you expect?” 

"Let's see, Bolton and his wife, and their baby. Tywin and possibly Joffrey." Sandor felt Sansa stiffen at that. "Like I said, they won't be staying. Just long enough for us to conduct some business, and then they'll head back to their respective homes to spend the holiday with their families. Should be done by lunch." 

"Well, they are welcome for lunch as well, if they so desire," Cat offered. 

Another chair was brought in by a servant and placed next to Lysa’s seat. “NOOO!” the sickly boy cried out. “I want to sit with Sansa!” He grabbed the chair and dragged it over to squeeze in between Sansa and Sandor.

She grimaced and said, “Sweetrobin, maybe you should sit on the other side of me…”

He ignored her and shoved his bony elbows into both of their sides to make room for himself. “I will sit here,” he announced. “We are to be wed, so it is only right that I sit on this side of you.”

“I’m sorry, you’re to be  _what_ now?” Sandor gaped.

Sansa shook her head furiously, “No! We’re not… We’re first cousins! That sort of thing hasn’t been legal for five-hundred years! Sweetrobin, this is my  _boyfriend_ , Sandor. Please refrain from saying such things around him, and the rest of the family for that matter! They are not true, and frankly, it’s upsetting that you’re still saying stuff like that.”

“Sansa, sweetling, let him be. He’s just so taken with you. And he would be a much better match for you than a mongrel like that hideous man,” the fat version of Catelyn said sourly. Sandor clenched his jaw, ready to fire back a retort.

_"Aunt Lysa!”_ Sansa snarled, springing to her feet and knocking her chair over. “This man is  _my_ guest in the  _Stark_ family home and I will  _not_ let you say hurtful things like that.  _Apologize_ or I will throw you out myself.” 

_Fierce little bird._

Catelyn coughed to get everyone’s attention. “Lysa, Sansa has _always_ been quite protective of Sandor. While she could have said it a bit more eloquently, she does have a point. You are always welcome in our home, but Sandor is an honored guest here as well, and if you cannot behave as is befitting your station, then I will ask you to leave.”

“You would kick me out over  _him?!”_

“I would kick you out for treating a fellow guest so poorly. Think of how this reflects on yourself, on your husband, on your livelihood.” Catelyn’s voice was soft, but firm. Lysa looked around the room, just now noticing the level of guests present.

“I  _apologize,_ ser. I was too harsh in my speech.” Lysa looked like she had swallowed a horseradish. 

“Your apology is accepted, my lady,” Sandor said as cordially as possible. He refused to let her get to him.  _I’ll be the bigger person about this if it kills me._ His eyes slid over to Lysa’s husband, Petyr. The man was staring intently at Sandor. 

“Well, now that we have that taken care of,” Catelyn motioned to the servants to bring in the food, “let’s begin.” 

Sandor noted that Catelyn stared at the champagne flute, but did not lift it to start the toast again.

**********

“Sandor, I am so sorry about my aunt and cousin’s behavior.” Sansa was currently sitting cross-legged on the bed in his assigned room. He was laying down next to her, his legs dangling off the side.

“It’s alright. I get that a lot. I’m mostly used to it.” He tugged on the tie to loosen it. _Why do these things always feel like a noose?_

“No, it’s not alright!” she asserted. “Aunt Lysa is used to getting her way. Baelish spoils her and her son, and it makes them impossible to be around for any length of time. He only does it so he can placate her since he doesn’t actually love her.”

“Why marry her then? You said she was a widow, and your cousin is from her first marriage?”

“Yeah, uncle Jon was her first husband. I don’t know why she married him, she hated him. She’s been in love with Baelish since they were kids, but Baelish has been in love with my mother just as long. Uncle Jon died two years ago, and my aunt married Baelish less than six months after that. Baelish gained a  _lot_ when he married my aunt. That’s the only reason I can think of for him marrying her. He became head of the Arryn corporation when he married Lysa, in addition to his own business and is doing very well with both.” Sansa sighed. “I think I mentioned this before, but he creeps me out." She edged closer to him. "Hey... Can I stay in your room tonight?”

Sandor raised an eyebrow, “You think he would try something?”

She shook her head, “No, but Sweetrobin does have a tendency of sneaking into my bed when he visits. It was annoying when we were younger. Now it’s annoying and indecent. He’s older than Rickon and Rickon is old enough to compete!”

Sandor laughed. “Well, as long as you don’t get in trouble, I don’t mind.”

She smiled at him, “I doubt Mother would mind much.” She uncurled her legs from her sitting position and threw one over his hips to straddle him. “But we’ll have to be quieter than usual.” She pulled her green dress up and over her head. Sandor eyed her appreciatively. She was wearing a matching set of red lace panties and bra.  _How festive, though I’m the only one who will see this._

“I think I can handle that. ‘Can  _you_?’ is the better question,” he smirked at her.

“I am perfectly capable of being  _quiet_ while you make love to me,” she insisted, undoing the top buttons of his shirt. He continued to smirk. “I am!”

“I think I prefer when you’re  _not_ quiet though.” She slapped him lightly on the arm for that.

“Jerk, you’re not helping.” She gasped when he slid his thumb under the hem of her panties and rubbed lightly along her slit.

“Not trying to help. Trying to make you horny.”

“That’s not hard,” she said breathlessly, “You just have to look at me and I’m ready to go.”

“Is that so?” he grinned, slipping in between her folds and increasing the pressure of his thumb. Her head rolled back a little.

“Oh gods,  _yes,”_ she moaned, clenching his shirt.

There was a sudden knock at the door. They both groaned. Sansa slid off of him and put her dress back on effortlessly. She walked over to the window and sat on the wide window sill as he went to answer the door, adjusting his cock to be a little less obvious.

“Who is it?” he called out.

“Petyr Baelish,” came the reply. Sansa’s head whipped around, her hand reaching out to the nearby lamp to turn it off and shroud her in darkness. He was only able to see her because he knew she was there. She motioned for Sandor to go ahead and open the door.  _Curious little bird._

Opening the door, the shorter man was smiling at him, but it was clearly forced. “Mr. Baelish, what can I do for you?”

”You can leave my niece alone.” The scent of mint coming from him was close to overpowering.

Sandor raised an eyebrow. “Sorry. ‘Fraid I can’t oblige you on that. Is there anything else?”

Baelish studied him. Sandor waited, unperturbed by it. Finally, he said, “You do know that you are completely wrong for her, don’t you? I’ve looked into your background. You’re unemployed, a former fighter who can’t get back into the business, you’ve spent an excessive amount of time at the Quiet Isles  _Rehab_ facility out in the country. You have  _nothing_ to offer her.”

“I think what I have to offer her is between her and me,” Sandor said quietly. Baelish immediately looked down, eyes widening at the sight of the bulge in Sandor’s pants. Sandor reddened slightly, but did not cower under the man’s stare. “Of course there’s that, too,” he conceded, “but not what I meant, so get your mind out of the gutter.”

“You dare to touch  _my_ niece with your filthy paws,  _dog?_ ” Baelish hissed, speaking more to Sandor’s cock than to Sandor himself. “She’s been through so much pain and horror. She does not need your  _savagery_ anywhere near her!”

“Oi, eyes up here.” Baelish tore his gaze from Sandor’s crotch, his eyes glittering with hatred and jealousy. Sandor almost felt sorry for him, “Anything between Sansa and me is no one else’s business. She is a grown woman. If you have a problem with me, fine, but she doesn’t, and as long as she doesn’t, I’m not going anywhere. So  _learn to deal with it_. If that is all, then good night, Mr. Baelish.” He shut the door firmly, locked it and sighed.


	27. Sansa: Never Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Never Again](https://youtu.be/EbFh1gyuVjM)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

“He’s toeing the line again,” Sansa murmured from the shadows. She stood up and walked back to the bed, turning off the light beside the bed and discarding her dress once again. Now the only light came from the moonlight streaming in from the window. He followed wordlessly, laying down on the bed next to her, gathering her in his arms, and pulling the covers over them. “I can’t stand him! He acts like Joffrey used to, like I…like...”

“Like you belong to him?” Sandor finished for her. She nodded, feeling helpless. Sandor held her close, nuzzling her neck. “But you don’t. I’m yours and you are mine.”

“I’m yours, and you are mine,” she repeated softly.

“So...Arya, Gendry and Neddy?” he asked. She smiled. She appreciated the distraction.

“Arya met Gendry when she was a freshman, he was a junior, because they were in the same club, The Night’s Watch Jr League. They hated each other at first, but he got over it quicker than she did. Or maybe it was that they liked each other, but neither was willing to admit it. They’re both fairly stubborn. Either way, they were bitter rivals for several months. I once heard her say, ‘How can someone so stupid be so gorgeous and fuckable?’ She really had it bad for him.” She shook her head and laughed. “So they were in this club, and got stuck as partners on a weekend retreat. Arya, being Arya, wandered off in a huff over something, and Gendry, being the responsible one, went after her. They ended up getting lost, spending the entire night huddled together and came back the next morning as friends. They didn’t start dating until her junior year, and she ended up getting pregnant almost right away. Father was so angry, but after he calmed down, he saw how much they loved each other, how much they wanted to keep the baby...then got angry again when Arya refused to marry Gendry. I believe ‘just because he knocked me up, doesn’t mean he has the right to marry me,’ were her exact words.”

Sandor chuckled. “Sounds like the Wolf Girl I’ve come to know.”

“Obviously, they did end up marrying. Gendry spent all of the pregnancy courting Arya, convincing her that they belonged together. She knew that when she started sleeping with him, but like I said, she’s stubborn. She agreed to marry him, as long as he could wait until she graduated. The same day, they went straight from the high school to the court house, but it was about a year after Neddy came into this world. She didn’t want her son to have a bastard name though, since his parents would eventually be married. She was going to make him a Stark, but before he was born, Robert had Gendry legitimized. He is not his heir, but it was enough for Arya. His full name is Eddard Robert Baratheon, in honor of our father and godfather.”

“Hopefully he’ll turn out more like his father than his mother,” Sandor commented.

Sansa laughed. "Yeah, I suppose." _How did I get so lucky to find him?_ “Sandor…”

“Hmmm?” He was playing with a tendril of her hair, curling it around his finger.

“I want to tell you...well, everything, but mostly about my scars.” She heard a sharp intake of breath from him. “Um, you don’t have to share about yours, if you don’t want to, but I’m ready to talk about mine.”

“That’s not it, I’m just...surprised? But also happy that you trust me enough to tell me. That you feel ready to tell me.”

“I just...I don't want there to be secrets between us, not secrets like this,” she whispered. “I want to tell you everything. Even the parts I haven’t told anyone else.”

He held her tight. “I’m listening, little bird.” She took a deep breath to steady herself, wishing she had swiped some liquor from downstairs.

“When I said my dream relationship with Joff went sour...that was an understatement. I had applied to the Red Keep Preparatory School, which is where I met him, and when I got in, my parents decided to let me board there instead of moving the entire family just so I could attend high school. Joffrey asked me out the first week of school. He was a sophomore paying attention to a _freshman_. Not only that, he was the most popular boy in the entire school. I was thrilled, to say the least. I started having sex with him only a few months into it, thinking that this was it, this is my future husband.

"I tried so hard to be the perfect girlfriend, but...it was never good enough. It started off small, a quick insult here, a list of things I did wrong there. After a while, insults weren’t enough. He’d hit me, or have one of his lackeys do it, whenever I displeased him. Never in the face, or where anyone could see it. ‘Leave her face. I like her pretty.’ After a few months of that, he started to do it just because he could. He got off on it. Near the end, after he smacked me around, he would then force himself on me. Not a rape, per se, because he never forced himself inside me, but he would use me to get off. Either by my horrified reactions to the things he or Meryn or Boros did, or just having me be there while he insulted me and slapped me around a little. His slaps didn't hurt that much, it was the humiliation that got to me. He would cum on my stomach or my back, or my face. Because ‘that’s how you treat a whore.’ He was fond of saying that. That I could take, more or less, I could survive that, I had to. He had become my world, and he was the only anchor for me. I didn't love him, I don't think I ever really did, but I needed him because there was no one else. He had isolated me, made me do things, told me that if I told anyone, they would condemn me more than him.

"The dogs we have here, they’re all from the same litter, but there was a seventh one, Lady. She was the most gentle dog you could ever meet. I brought her with me when I moved to Red Keep. The school allowed it because of my family name, and because of her nature. One day, Joffrey was in a particularly bad mood. I don’t remember why. He didn’t need much of a reason. He told his boys to hold me down, while he took Lady away. I screamed at him to leave her alone, she was innocent, to take me instead. His dark mood gone, he only smiled and said I should just relax. That was the only time I broke free from Meryn and Boros with my own strength. Grabbing a letter opener off his desk, I went after him, but I couldn't do it, I couldn't bury that blade in him. Meryn and Boros caught up with me, pushed me down. Joffrey just laughed. 'You think you can try something like that and get away with it?' He took the letter opener from me, and told me he'd bring me back a present," she squeezed her eyes shut, the tears escaping despite her best effort. " He came back two days later, with a n-new set of fur lined glo-gloves for all hi-his friends...and my present was knowing where they came from.” Her voice cracked as she sobbed. Sandor held her, wiped away the tears she shed, kissed her until she stopped shaking, until her breathing evened out and she was able to continue, though her voice wasn’t quite as steady as it had previously been. "He killed my Lady...because he thought it was _funny_."

“She’s the reason you sometimes get misty-eyed around Stranger?” he asked gently. She nodded.

“She was my best friend and I couldn’t…I couldn’t protect her...” she choked on a sob.

“Want me to go get Stranger? I’m sure I can find my way to the kennels.” She shook her head and hugged him tight. It was several more minutes before she could go on.

“My self-worth was in the toilet by then, I believed that I deserved what I got. I didn’t deserve to be helped, to leave Joffrey. This was right before my father opened the Winterfell gym. I hardly ever saw my family, and I was terrified to tell them what was going on. I was so confused, I believed it would be worse to tell my family.

"Father had been planning on opening the gym for several years. It was because he was around that weekend to close deals that I’m alive today.

"I would like to point out that all of the horrible things Joffrey did, or had his friends do, he was always sober. He never drank. Until that weekend. He stole some of Tyrion’s good vintage wine and got incredibly drunk with Boros and Meryn. They burst into my room, and dragged me out, took me to his father’s house. I had been there before, to meet his parents. Well, to meet his mother, since I knew his father already. Robert had always liked me, but Mrs. Baratheon hated me. Anyway, they didn’t take me into the main house, but to a little apartment they had built for Joffrey to have for himself. I think they intended it for mild stuff, like a man cave or something. What it was actually filled with was something you see in a dungeon. Not a sex dungeon, a plain ol’ torture dungeon. There may have been some sex stuff there, but I wasn’t paying that close attention. My focus was on the table they strapped me to. They had me lying on my stomach, my hips and legs were off the side, so my bottom was in a ‘prime location’. I begged and pleaded for them to let me go, promising I wouldn’t tell anyone. Meryn and Boros didn’t participate in what was done to me. They just watched and...pleasured themselves. This wasn’t the first time they had done this with Joffrey, though it was the first I knew about it. Meryn especially seemed to enjoy the show. Joffrey started with a small riding crop first. He was just testing the waters. Normally, he only hits me with his open palm. Boros, too, but his hand is meatier and packed more of a wallop. Meryn would use his fist.

"The riding crop stung like a bitch. I hoped it would be enough to satisfy him, but no, it only whet his appetite. He took scissors to my clothing, cut them open so he could have ‘better access’. He tried the riding crop for a little while longer, but moved on to a paddle. Kind of looked like a cricket bat. That didn’t hold his interest long, but it did give me this scar.” She pointed to long line that went from her ass to back of her knee.

“Next was a short whip. That was what made this one,” she pointed to the one that went across her left shoulder blade to her left bicep. “And this one,” she pointed to the one that spanned across the small of her back and over part of her hip.

“He picked up another whip, this one with little pieces of stones tied to the leather. That was what gave me the rest of them, except this one on my shoulder, which is the most notable.” She remembered the pain, how much she had screamed. “For this one, he took a torch from the wall. It was a dungeon, so it was complete with real burning torches. Authenticity, I suppose. The smell of burning flesh is not something you can easily forget.”

Sandor nodded as he traced this one carefully, as if it was still a fresh wound. His hand trembled slightly as it hovered just barely over her skin. Her own hand ghosted over his scarred face. “Or its touch,” she whispered. He closed his eyes as she stroked his ruined skin.

 _Why couldn’t I have met you again sooner?_ she thought bitterly. _Though, if I had, would I have been in a place where I could have been ready for you? Where you would have been ready for me? I like to think we would have, or would have learned soon enough. Moot point now, I guess._

“You said your father is the reason you’re alive?” he asked, his eyes fluttering open.

She nodded. “Joffrey was out of his mind, he probably would have killed me, or at least maimed me enough that I ended up bleeding out. There was already so much blood, but the hospital later said most of them were just flesh wounds. Father was at the main house, Robert was signing the deed to a property over to him. He was the one who heard the screaming. Cersei tried to stop him. She knew what Joffrey got up to in that little apartment, but never did anything to stop him. Robert may be a lecher, but he would never condone violence against a woman, not even his own bitch of a wife. He had no idea. He and my father pushed her aside. They didn’t know it was me. They just ran to help someone in need. Joffrey and his friends escaped out the back. It was my word against Joffrey’s, and he had two friends to back him up, while I had no one. Robert pushed to have the boy punished, but Cersei protected her little monster. He got off with a year in juvie, and a restraining order.”

“He’s a dead man,” Sandor growled. “Him and his friends.”

Sansa smiled. “Don’t worry, I will have my revenge one day. Dish best served cold and all that...”

“If you need any help, you only have to ask. What happened then?”

Sansa leaned into him, her body relaxing as he rubbed her back. “Father took me away from there. I spent a year at Quiet Isles Rehab, healing both physically and mentally. We never told Mother or my siblings everything that happened. They know I was abused, mentally and physically, but they don’t know about the burn, or that most of the scars were acquired on one night. I knew they would react, and it wouldn't be pretty. I just wanted peace, I _needed_ it. It helped that the trial was so far from Winterfell, and that Cersei pulled a lot of strings to keep it as hushed as possible. Father didn't agree with my decision, but he honored it. Mostly, he helped Robert try and get Joff a more severe punishment. Cersei was furious. Demanded that Robert choose between his best friend and his family. He chose to divorce Cersei. He fought for custody of their other two children, and won. Oddly enough, once the divorce went through, his drinking decreased. Cersei and Joff moved back to her father's home. He was not pleased.

"I ended up finishing high school via online classes at my uncle’s place. My psychiatrist would visit me once a month, and speak to me twice weekly through video chat. He felt that living with uncle Benjen was the best thing for me at the time. Your neighborhood kind of reminds me of it, actually. I learned how to survive in the wilderness, I learned independence, I learned to commune with nature, I learned to be at peace. My psychiatrist taught me to let go of the negative and embrace the positive. Anything else would be letting them win. So, I try to be positive. Elder Brother is very big on that sort of thing.”

“Wait...Elder Brother? Bald, older man, red nose, former soldier?” Sandor asked. Sansa nodded in confusion. “He was my psychiatrist, too.”

“Small world,” Sansa said with a smile. “I’m starting to think that the universe was pushing us together after all.” Sandor nuzzled her, humming contentedly.

“Wait, but this was before you were kidnapped, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. The mental trauma of the kidnapping wasn’t as bad as it could have been, if I hadn’t learned survival from uncle Benjen. It was still bad, but it could have been much, much worse. I had to compartmentalize my mind, which was made easier by that, but...I was gone for five months. Five months of building up walls, of creating my armor, so that pond scum of a human being couldn’t break me into a million pieces, so that he couldn’t drive me insane. I had to go to another place in my mind to survive, a place where Lady was alive, and no one could hurt either of us. Sometimes, when I sense a threat, when I get scared, I hide behind that wall, that armor. Other times, I put it on to just deal with certain situations, like when I’m in the octagon. I can’t let fear of my opponent get to me, so I go to that place, and suddenly, my limits are gone. The downside is that I become shut off from all emotion, no fear, but no empathy either. It’s no way to live.”

“I usually just let the rage wash over me,” Sandor commented dryly. “Your way is much too complicated for the likes of me.” She laughed at that.

“Maybe. Anyway, it took another year at Quiet Isles with Elder Brother to even be able to let my family back in, to be able to have physical contact with another person without going catatonic. That was four years ago. I still have trouble with it, but not with you. I didn’t understand it that first night, which is why I kept pushing and making advances on you. If I hadn’t had the issue to deal with, I wouldn’t have moved so fast with you, but I would have still wanted to see you again. I really did enjoy talking to you at the club.”

Sandor hugged her tightly. “I’m ok with how it started,” he said with a chuckle.

“Jerk," but she laughed too. "Anyway, Father suggested that I start taking self-defense lessons. Except for Mother, Bran and me, everyone in my family was trained to be a fighter from an early age. Elder Brother agreed that it would be good for me to have something like that to focus on. Brienne was brought in. She’s the best trainer in the business, an old friend of my mother’s, and she’s an advocate for battered women, something I very much was at the time. She and Elder Brother worked together to create a plan for me, a way to use my armor as a way to start dealing with my problems, while also dismantling it. Secondary to my writing, actually, and as it turned out, I was very good at both. Like you, I allowed my rage to carry me through, but my armor was used to hone that rage into a weapon. With my natural physical advantages of speed and agility, I began to show promise as a fighter. A little more than a year ago, Father asked me if I would like to try to compete in the octagon. Brienne and Elder Brother encouraged it, even said that I could take on a pseudonym and change my appearance if I felt uncomfortable with being in the spotlight. That’s how Alayne Stone was born. You know the rest after that.

I’m still in therapy, but it’s down to once every two weeks. Elder Brother is very pleased with my recent progress.” Sandor kissed her forehead. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself to tell him the final part.

“There’s one more thing, something I haven’t even told my parents.” She began to tremble slightly, fear of what admitting the next part would do to her, to him, to them. I thought I would take this secret with me to the grave, but if I can’t tell him...

“Take your time, little bird, I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. She breathed deeply, attempting to steady herself.

“When I first returned, the hospital insisted that I stay there longer the required time for observations, both mental and physical. I was legally an adult, I could have checked myself out after the first forty-eight hours. I didn’t, because I felt something was off. I asked the doctor what tests they had run on me so far, specifically if a pregnancy test had been run.” She felt Sandor stiffen at that. She remembered having a similar reaction when she realized the necessity of it. “I was two months along. Too soon to be showing. The baby was the size of a kidney bean. I watched the ultrasound, I heard the little heartbeat, and saw this tiny little life growing inside me. If you were my first true love, then this baby was my second. It didn’t matter who the father was, that baby was mine, and I would protect it from the evils of this world. I would kill that bastard if he tried to take my child.” She closed her eyes to the bittersweet memory. It still hurt to think of it, but not as much as it used to, she had made her peace.

“You are amazing, you know that? Not every woman who’s been raped can separate the evil that was done to them from the life growing inside of them.”

“It was an effort, but a child should not be measured by the actions of their parents, good or bad. They are a separate person, and should be judged as such.”

“But...you don’t have a child now?” he asked cautiously.

“Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. I miscarried three weeks later. I never even learned if it was a boy or a girl. I happened to be at my doctor’s office at the time, the hospital insisted I have frequent check ups until I was cleared. Dr. Luwin took me to the ER, told my parents that it wasn’t anything serious, just a concern he had. I was able to go home fairly quickly, with lots of instructions and an order from Dr. Luwin to call him immediately if anything else happened. He said that it was a chromosomal imbalance that caused it, something about the father’s DNA. Besides the two doctors and Elder Brother, no one else knew of it. I started taking birth control once Dr. Luwin told me it was ok, eventually elected to have the surgically implanted birth control. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that impregnating me was the purpose of the kidnapping. As much as I would have fought to keep that baby, I didn’t want to give the kidnapper the chance to do it again.”

“What about the police, didn’t they know about the DNA, maybe be able to use it to catch the guy?”

“The hospital gave it to them when I first found out, the lead detective was told of its’ source, but kept it to himself. He was a friend of the hospital doctor, listened to my story, agreed to keep the baby a secret until I could tell my parents. When I had the miscarriage, I told him that no one was to know about it, in case the kidnapper tried again. He agreed with me on that. They ran it through the system, but there were no matches. If he ever gets picked up for anything else and gives them cause to run his DNA, they’ll have him, but so far, nothing.”

“Is it possible that your kidnapper and stalker are the same person?”

She nodded. “It’s...actually, Jaime sent me a text earlier, when we were all on our way up here. The stalker left me another letter, and on it was trace amounts of DNA, a match for my kidnapper/rapist. So, yes, it’s so possible, it’s true.”

“When did you get that text?”

“After lunch,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you, but…”

“That explains your quietness. I thought you might have just had an upset stomach,” he teased her, coaxing a smile. “You don’t have to apologize for not being able to tell me something right away.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” He flicked her nose lightly and chuckled. She stuck out her tongue at him, but then nuzzled him. She was feeling lighter, relieved that she had finally told someone, relieved that he hadn’t rejected her, that his arms were securely around her, holding her as if he was afraid she would fly away.

“There’s one last thing,” she said. “That night I showed up because of a nightmare...it was about you.”

“Me?”

She nodded. “All about you, now that I think about it. It started off nice, but...I was in your house, but you were in the kitchen. You couldn’t hear or see me. Something happened to Stranger, and you went to investigate. The stalker was there. He had stabbed Stranger, he shot you. I had to watch you both die.”

“And in order to assure yourself, you came over to keep your hands on me, make sure I was there, that I was real.” She nodded. “I’m sorry you had that nightmare, but I’m always glad when you’re there with me.”

“Me too,” she said with a smile. “I sleep better knowing you’re there.”

“My scars...” he started, but paused. “Well, it’s not quite as dramatic a story as yours.” She punched him lightly and he chuckled. “It was in the New Year celebrations. My family had gone to the lake with my dad’s company, a retreat or something like that, intended to boost company morale. This was after my mother had passed away. I was playing with some of the other children, and a few of the older ones decided a bonfire would be great. However, none of us were supposed to be handling matches without adult supervision, and it was decided that I would be the one to light the damn thing. I didn’t want to, but I let myself be goaded into it. Gregor helped prepare the starting point, the place I would light it. I don’t know if he did it on purpose or it was an accident, but he put too much light fluid.

When I brought the match to it, it flared up, caught fire to my shirt, just around my neck. The other children, Gregor included, ran away. I managed to do that Stop, Drop and Roll and extinguish the flames myself, but not before,” he gestured to the mass of scars. “It took a while for the adults to find me. Several hours later I was taken to the hospital and received treatment. The company paid for the multiple surgeries, the skin grafts, but I was never quite the same. Gregor never apologized, even went so far as to blame me for ruining all the fun. And then... I was just a kid, but the people around me began to treat me like a pariah. Dad was no help, started drinking, said that he got demoted because of me and the ‘incident.’ It started me on a dark path of anger and aggression. Nana took me in not long after that. You know most of that story already. I spent a lot time repairing my body after that incident with the junkie, but also a lot of time repairing my mind and my psyche. You know how Elder Brother is, and he is good at what he does.”

“He is a persistent man, and far more patient than anyone should be,” Sansa agreed.

“Sansa...do you ever intend to get married, have children, after all that’s happened?” She heard the hesitancy in his voice. He’s so adorable when he’s shy.

“Of course. Someday. When I meet the right person. Someone who sends my heart racing. Someone who puts my welfare first. Someone who sees me as a person, with my own thoughts, my own needs. Someone who I love, and loves me in return. Someone I can be free with. Someone I can trust with my whole body, heart and soul.” She kissed him. “Someone like you.”

“Sansa…” When he said her name like that, it almost sounded like a prayer. She grinned. Gods, this man is sexy.

“I mean the words every time, Sandor. I’m yours, and you’re mine. Do you remember? They’re the words we said when we played wedding.”

“When we played wedding? When we were kids?” he asked confused.

“That was the good part of the dream, before it went dark. The first time you said it to me, in your kitchen, I was surprised. It’s what is said in the Old Religion. You know, the weirwood trees, godswoods. When a couple gets married, the ceremony is much shorter than for the Faith of the Seven, and it ends with the pledge of both people saying ‘I’m yours and you’re mine.’ When Mother mentioned it earlier, I started remembering more, remembering that I dreamt about it, once I started thinking about it, though your face is still fuzzy in my memories.”

“Well, you were four years old.” She swatted him and continued.

“I remember asking you to play wedding. And I wanted to use the ceremony from my Father’s religion. Always been a daddy’s girl. We talked him into take us to the park that had the weirwood tree. He got so mad when he realized what we were doing, do you remember?”

Sandor laughed. “Oh yeah, he gave us such a lecture. He said in the eyes of the Old Gods, we…” he stopped short. Sansa nudged him.

“What? What did he say?” She had to poke him before he answered.

“He said we were really married.”

“What?!”

Sandor nodded. “In the eyes of the Old Gods, we are married. As long as we didn’t consummate the marriage, it would be fine, that the Gods would forgive us since we were children who didn’t know what we were doing. We didn’t know what that meant and he refused to explain, because I think you started saying something about how we should do that right away.”

“Huh. That would explain all the yelling. Wait...then, the first night we met and had sex...was…technically speaking...our wedding night? We’re married? Truly?” She was scared to breathe. Could I be so lucky?

“You know more about it than I do, but if I’m remembering what he said correctly, then yeah.” She didn’t say anything, and he must have taken it wrong. “I mean, it’s not legal, so if you don’t want--” She silenced him with a kiss.

“I would never not want you. I love you. Husband.” She felt him smile against her lips.

“Say it again,” he rasped.

“Of course. I love you. Husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated: 9:12pm 12/17/2015  
> In case you read the original and were wondering why some stuff seemed different.


	28. Sandor: You and Me Baby Ain’t Nothin But Mammals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Bad Touch](https://youtu.be/xat1GVnl8-k)
> 
> No picset today. Considering....well, you'll see.

“I love you, too, little bird.”

She pulled at his shirt. “Still wanna--”

A rhythmic thumping began from the other side of the wall. Sandor groaned. “I guess one of your siblings beat us to the--”

“Oh, _Petyr!_ ” came the muffled cry of Lysa. “Oh _yes! Petyr, put a baby in me!”_ Lysa screamed.

“Well, this is awkward,” Sandor whispered, trying to ignore the loud moans of the pudgy woman.

“Yeah,” Sansa whispered back, “even more so because I’m still horny and I think she’s being loud enough to cover the sounds of our lovemaking. As long as they don’t finish too quickly.” The thumping became faster, they heard a grunt and louder moaning and a questionably orgasmic scream from Lysa, and then the thumping stopped. “Damn,” she swore, keeping her voice low.

Sandor chuckled and said, also in a low voice, “Kinky little bird.” He felt her shrug and she began to nibble on his collarbone, undoing the rest of his buttoned shirt as she did so.

“Oh, Petyr, that was wonderful! I can feel the baby being conceived already!” Sandor briefly wondered if Lysa was speaking loudly on purpose, and how much she was in love with her husband if less than a minute of fucking was enough to satisfy her. He heard another voice, this one much more muffled than Lysa’s, but he was just barely able to make out the words.

“Quiet, woman. You’ll wake the entire house.”

 _So she was doing it on purpose. For whose benefit though?_ His breath caught as Sansa undid his trousers and pushed them and his boxers down. She pushed his shoulders down until she was able to climb on top of him and wiggled her body into place. He grinned. “Very kinky little bird,” he whispered. She leaned down to kiss him and he felt her smile against his lips.

“Once in awhile is ok,” she whispered back.

On the other side of the wall, Lysa giggled, “Who cares? They all know how much I love you!”

Sansa slid easily onto his cock, pushing her panties to the side. “Oh _fuck,_ ” he hissed. She began to rock slowly on top of him.

“Remember,” she whispered in a sing-song voice, “have to be qui~et.”

 _"I care,”_ he heard Baelish insist. “What if Cat were to hear us? Or Robert? Or any of the kids for that matter?”

“Catelyn wouldn’t care, she knows how we feel about each other. Sweetrobin is in a room in the next wing, I specifically asked for it so we could be together. The children are all grown, they know what happens inside the bedroom of married people,” Lysa countered. “Half of them are married, for the Seven’s sake! And the other half have surely at least explored a bit, if not going all the way.”

Sansa brought his hands to her breasts. He kneaded them the way she liked as she leaned down and licked and suckled at the base of his throat, her teeth grazing the skin lightly. A groan escaped his lips. “You like that, _Husband?_ ” she whispered in a husky voice. He nodded, unable to speak. _Oh fuck, I love her dominant side._ He could still hear Lysa and Petyr arguing, but their voices faded to the background as he was loved by the wonderful woman on top of him. Her hips moved like magic as she guided herself up and down on his rigid cock. He pinched and rolled her hard nipples between his fingers under the silky lace of her bra. Her tight cunt squeezed him each time he did so. “Sandor, I love it when you do that,” she moaned into his neck.

“We _cannot_ allow her to continue an association with that mangy _dog_ she calls her boyfriend,” he heard Baelish yell. Sansa slowed her movement.

“What the hell? When did they start talking about us?” she whispered. He shrugged, irked that Baelish was still going on about that. “If they want a dog, let’s show them a _fuckin’ dog!”_ she growled. “Switch places with me.” She got off of him and placed her hands on the headboard of the bed as he got behind her, kicking his pants and boxers off from where they had pooled around his ankles. “Show them what a _dog_ can do to a wolf. I want to fuckin’ _howl.”_

He growled at her, grabbing her hips, pushing aside her panties again and plunging his cock into her up to the hilt, making her gasp. She was still wet from the slow lovemaking they had just been doing, but as he thrust into her hard and fast, she became absolutely drenched.

“Oh gods, yes,” she moaned. Her voice was still low. Despite her assertions, he knew she was still shy about being heard. She moved with him, meeting him thrust for thrust. He felt her begin to clench around him.

 _She’s close. Fuck, I really do want to make her howl._ He leaned down, his mouth next to her ear. _"Beg me._ Beg me to make you come.” She clenched around him again, her submissive side overjoyed at his directions.

She turned her head to see him. “Please, Husband, please make me come?” she asked desperately. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”

“ _Tell me,_ tell me what you want.” _Oh shit, I’m getting close too!_

“Claim me, mark me, make me come with your wonderful cock,” she pleaded. He pulled out of her. She whined in disappointment, but he flipped her onto her back and was inside her again, making her moan in delight. “Oh gods, yes!”

“I claim you, you claim me,” he growled into her ear as he continued to thrust into her. She nodded and he bit her shoulder, enough to bruise, but not enough to break skin. She gasped, her orgasm slamming into her, and returned the bite, though closer to his neck. He shuddered as he came, his seed filling her. _Fuck, that was intense._ She was nuzzling his neck, licking and kissing where she had bit him.

“Are you ok?” she asked in between kisses. He realized he was breathing a lot heavier than normal.

“Yeah, that was just...wow…” he wasn’t sure how to describe it. He could still hear Lysa and Petyr arguing. _Guess we were quiet enough then._ Part of him was disappointed.

She giggled softly. “Yeah, I know. Oh, no, don’t pull out just yet,” she said as he began to move. He rolled the two of them over, so that he wouldn’t crush her. She lay on top of him, drawing circles on his chest lazily with her finger. “I think this is my favorite part. When we’re both spent, and just lay there together. That first night together, remember I said I had never gone home with a guy?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, I didn’t know what to do, should I leave, should I stay? And then you came back in and cuddled me. I think that was when I first started falling for you. Definitely the clincher for why I decided to leave you my number.”

“Hmmm, I should remember that in case we don’t work out and I manage to convince the next perfect woman I meet to go home with me.” She smacked him on his arm. “Careful, I might start to enjoy that,” he chuckled.

“Oh please, your cock twitched inside me. I think it’s a safe bet you kind of already do. And before you argue about it, it wasn’t a random surprised twitch, it was a ‘oh that was interesting’ kind of twitch.”

“You are able to distinguish between twitches of my cock?” he asked in amusement.

 _“Of course,"_ she said in a mock haughty tone. "I’m an expert in all things related to your body, and especially your cock. It belongs to me, after all.” She gave him a little squeeze. He groaned.

“Remind me to never piss you off,” he rasped. “You might decide to claim it while kicking me to the curb.”

She smirked at him, “Oh trust me, I’ll make sure you enjoy every torturous moment of it.” She kissed him lovingly, then stared at the wall. “By the Seven, are they _still_ arguing?”

“You just noticed then. Seems like it. Either we were too quiet, or they were just that intense in the discussion to notice. Or both.”

“Despite all my grumblings, I completely forgot about them once we started going at it.” Sansa yawned. “Eh, whatever. I got to have sexy times with you and now I get to sleep by your side. That’s all I care about right now,” she said, snuggling against him and pulling the covers over their bodies.

“The Seven _forbid_ she end up marrying him and bearing his children. What will that look like for us?” they heard Lysa say.

“Exactly. We’ll use this time to separate Sansa from that beast. I’m sure Bolton and Lannister wouldn’t mind helping. They have a vested interest in this as well, if they want to stay in favor with Vale Industries.” Petyr sounded very confident. It worried Sandor. _What does he think he can possibly do?_

“Like hells that’s going to happen,” murmured Sansa. “I’m not giving you up for anything.” She was soon asleep in his arms, but Sandor stayed awake long into the night, listening to Petyr and Lysa talk.


	29. Sansa: I Will Find You, I Will Always Find You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I Will Always Find You](https://youtu.be/6f-duZrFWp4)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

Her eyes fluttered open around five a.m. when Sandor’s phone rang. He kissed her forehead, whispered that he would be right back, and she had fallen back into her dreams.

Sansa woke to a bed empty of Sandor. _Where, oh where, could my husband be?_ She liked the idea. She had wanted to bring up the idea of going down to city hall and making it legal, but his absence was making that difficult. She looked down at her left hand and was surprised to see a thin string around it, with a note tied to it saying “I.O.U.” _That cheeky little… Time to go a’ huntin’!_ she thought with a grin. She left the string on her finger, only removing the note. It would be a little weird to walk around with an IOU attached to her hand.

She showered and changed into some of his clothing, only going to her own room to pick up some pants that fit her. She stood in front of her mirror, pulled the shirt collar to the side and stared at the love bite on her shoulder, a goofy grin on her face. _“I claim you, you claim me.”_ His words had touched her more than she could tell him. Joffrey had sought to claim her. So had Harry. And the kidnapper/stalker. And a few males that had chatted her up over the years that she wouldn’t even give the time of day to. Only Sandor had managed to do it, in exchange for her claiming him. She hadn’t given in to any of them, but for her Sandor, she would give him everything.

She took the steps two at a time, jumping down the last three to land with a soft thud. “Wonderful landing, sweetling,” a voice called out to her from around the corner of the stairwell. She turned to see Petyr Baelish watching her.

 _Ugh, forgot about him…_ “Good morning, Uncle.” She hoped it was a frosty enough greeting.

“Sansa, I’ve told you, please call me Petyr.” He walked towards her, his minty odor wafting towards her like miasma. She smiled coldly at him, but he was not perturbed. “Walk with me, sweetling. I need to speak to you about something.”

“Don’t you have a meeting with Mr. Bolton and Mr. Lannister?” she asked, hoping to put him off.

“He does, Miss Stark,” Roose Bolton said quietly, coming up behind Baelish. His deathly pale skin coupled with his beady unblinking eyes always creeped her out, and she fought to suppress a shudder. “But breakfast first. Most important meal of the day. You are looking very lovely this morning. Oh, Ramsey sends his regards. He wanted to come see you in person, but with Robb being on the estate, I thought it best he wait in town. My wife Walda and our baby girl are here, however, if you’d like to see them.”

“The Lannisters are already eating breakfast,” Baelish said to Roose. The pale man bowed his head to Sansa and walked away. Baelish turned back to her, “It’s Tywin and his sister, Genna. Joffrey sends his regards as well. Tywin left him back at Casterly Rock. Your mother called him last night and told him that under no circumstances would Joff be allowed on the premises. I should have thought of this, I know you two had an unhappy break-up. I apologize for not taking your current feelings into consideration. I simply thought you would have been over it by now. Perhaps we could take a walk outside to talk. This will only take a few moments.” He offered her his arm, but she ignored it, turning on her heel and walked towards the front door. He had to rush to keep up. She grabbed her coat, shoved on her snow boots, and opened the door. Cold air greeted her, but she was toasty warm in Sandor’s sweater underneath her parka. It had snowed recently, the scent still in the air though it had already stopped. She trudged happily through the ankle-deep cold, white powder. She could still hear Baelish struggling to keep up with her. She enjoyed his struggle. She was still upset with him and his wife over their behavior from the previous night.

“Sansa, sweetling, would you please slow down?” he said, gasping behind her.

She allowed herself a small satisfied smile before donning her mask and turning towards her uncle by marriage. “My apologies, uncle, I have a normally fast pace. What did you need to speak to me about?”

He was huffing and panting a little. _Guess he’s not used to such exercise, even this little._ She remembered how quickly his and Lysa’s sex had been. _Little wonder there._ She almost felt sorry for her aunt. Almost.

“It’s about your...friend...” he began.

“You mean, Brienne?”

“No, I mean--”

“Oh, Bronn. Or is this about Margaery. Possibly Jaime? Or either of the Jeynes? I have a _lot_ of friends, uncle,” she stressed while holding back a smile. She was enjoying his frustration. Maybe a little too much, but after the insults towards Sandor, she cared even less than usual.

“The Hound,” he spat out, then grimaced and collected himself. “The one known as Sandor Clegane.” It was also satisfying to see Baelish struggle over trying to _not_ call him anything demeaning. He was trying to sweet talk her, that was plain, but what was not was that he had nothing to say that would deter her from her beloved. _Oh, gods, he really is my beloved, isn’t he? I thought I was past all this fairy tale nonsense! I suppose it’s not the worst thing that my Sandor could bring out this side of me. Still…_

“What about him?”

“He’s gone.”

She did not show the frown she felt, and asked, “What do you mean, _gone?_ ”

Baelish licked his lips. She could see the wheels turning in his head, gauging her reaction or lack thereof, planning out his next utterance. “I mean, he left. He packed up his things, and left in the middle of the night.”

 _He’s lying. He doesn’t know I was with Sandor last night._ She sucked in a breath and turned away from Baelish, covering her mouth with her hand as if in shock. _It’s what he wants to see, isn’t it?_

“He left me?” she forced her voice to quiver.

“I am so sorry, sweetling. I know you cared for him, but he is nothing but a brute. He used you, for reasons unknown, to get close to your family. He saw you as the weak link. I spoke to him in his room last night. I confronted him with my suspicions, that he was using you. He laughed in my face, but I must have touched a nerve because he’s gone.” Baelish threw his hands up, as if he had no idea how such a thing could have happened.

 _He would never leave me! You did something to him!_ Her anger was boiling to an inferno under her mask of sorrow. _If you hurt him…._ “I have to call him,” she said. She had to try, for true and for show.

“Sweetling,” she felt his hand pet her hair, “Just accept that he is gone, and not coming back. It will be ok. Your loving uncle is here for you.” It was when he embraced her from behind that she became paralyzed. He must have taken it as acceptance, because she felt his hands begin to wander. Fear was bubbling up, overwriting the anger she had previously felt as one hand slipped past the half opened zipper of her parka and began to fondle her breast through the sweater, his other hand slipping in under the back of the parka _and_ her sweater to caress her bare skin. “I have you sweetling, no worries now. Let Petyr take care of you,” he moaned into her ear, his erection pressing into the seat of her pants.

 _No! No! Not again! I can’t!_ She mentally began to retreat into herself when grey eyes flashed into her mind. _Fight, Sansa! Don’t let him win!_ she heard growled in her mind. She acted on muscle memory, pure reflex, dropping down into a crouch and throwing her arm around and behind him, her leg going in between his. He hadn’t expected it and was off balance, allowing her to pivot and judo throw him over her hip. Now she was behind him, his arm held and bent at a painful angle. He cried out, but she did not yield. “Are you completely _insane?!_ Touch me like that again, and I will rip each and every extending body part off your torso. And I mean _all five,”_ she hissed, straining his shoulder until she heard a satisfying pop. She shoved his face into the snow, hoping he met concrete underneath, and walked back to the house without waiting to hear his reply.

**********

She checked the garage for Sandor’s car before going inside. It was gone. Catelyn was pacing the front hallway when Sansa walked in. “Darling! I’ve been looking for you! What happened to Sandor? Lysa just told me that he left last night.”

_First Petyr, now Lysa. Wonder if she knows what her beloved husband was doing under the guise of consoling his “poor, fragile niece.”_

“I don’t know, Mother. Have you seen Bronn?” Her mother shook her head. “Ok, I’m going to go try calling Sandor, and then find Bronn, try to get some answers,” she said as she headed towards the stairs, running up them as fast as she could. Once she got to the second floor, she headed straight to Sandor’s room. He had locked her in after leaving for that phone call, and, with her master key, she had also locked it after she had left. Unlocking the door again, she saw his things were still in the room. His wallet and car keys on the dresser, Stranger’s leash hanging off the doorknob. It only confirmed what she already knew. He hadn’t left her. _Stranger was in the kennels with the other dogs last night. He should be safe, or the kennelmaster would have notified someone already. His keys...car must have been hotwired then._

She grabbed the shirt he had worn yesterday and breathed deep. His scent was strong on it, calming her. Taking the shirt with her, she went to Bronn’s room and walked right in without knocking.

“Bronn, is that you?” she heard from the bed. “Wha… oh my god, Sansa! What are you doing in here?” Margaery shrieked, trying to cover herself.

“Sorry, here,” she handed her friends the first set of clothing she could find, “There’s a situation. Where’s Bronn?”

Margaery looked around. “I...I don’t know. Sandor came by earlier, said he needed to speak to Bronn about something important. They went out, I went back to sleep. What’s going on?”

“Not sure. Sandor’s gone. Baelish found me about half an hour ago and told me some complete _tripe_ about how he scared Sandor off with his _words._ Then he tried to ‘comfort’ me and I forced him to eat snow.”

“I’m sorry, you did what now? Sweetie, sit down, start at the beginning.” Margaery patted the bed and continued getting dressed.

Sansa sat, despite the growing anxious feeling she felt. “I spent the night with Sandor. All night.” Margaery squealed, but refrained from asking about it, thankfully. “Before that though, Baelish came by to ‘talk’ to Sandor. He tried to threaten him, make him break up with me, but he had no idea I was in the room and heard everything. Sandor wasn’t intimidated at all. Later, we heard Baelish talking to Lysa. Their room shared a wall with Sandor’s. They discussed how they needed to ‘separate’ me from Sandor. I didn’t hear much after that. Then, early this morning, Sandor received a phone call. He said he’d be back in a few minutes, and that was the last I saw of him. When I woke again, he was gone. Baelish met me downstairs, asked me to walk with him so he could discuss something with me. He said Sandor had left in the middle of the night. I went along with it, knowing it wasn’t true, acting like I couldn’t believe it, and then Baelish…” she paused, still in disbelief about the next part. “Then he embraced me, touched me, and I could feel his…I could feel him pressing into my backside with his...” She didn’t want to say it. “He was aroused.”

“That bastard!” Margaery hissed. Sansa nodded but continued before Margaery could get too worked up.

“We had taken a walk outside, towards the hedge maze. Fresh snow everywhere. When he made his, um, advances, I froze at first, but I snapped out of it due to a growling voice I heard in my head, telling me to fight.”

“Sandor’s voice?”

“No, I think...I think it was Father’s. Anyway, I managed to turn the tables on Baelish, dislocated his shoulder, shoved his face into the snow and came straight back to the house to get Bronn. If anyone could figure out what happened, it’s him. But if Bronn left with Sandor, then it’s possible he was caught up in whatever the hell happened.” She picked up the shirt she remembered Bronn wearing yesterday. Breathing in deeply, she could smell him on it. _Perfect._

“Shit. Well, I’m dressed, let’s go. Anyone who messes with _my_ man is going to pay. Time to call the pack?”

“Yeah, but,” Sansa bit her lip nervously. “I’ve never done it before in a serious manner. It’s usually Arya or Rickon. Robb and Jon a few times...”

“Just go for it. Remember, from the diaphragm!” Margaery grinned as they stepped into the hallway. Sansa nodded and stood in the middle of the hallway. When the Stark children first moved to Winterfell, the triplets discovered that the acoustics were amazing in the place. Just right for what they referred to as “calling the pack”. She looked down at the string on her hand, the note had been left behind in her room. _Sandor, lend me your strength._ Sansa took her stance, drew in a deep breath, threw her head back, and howled.

 

**********

Within minutes, they gathered in the hallway in front of Bronn’s room, since that was the last place either of them had been seen. Catelyn was aware of what “calling the pack” meant and, with Margaery’s help, herded the other guests into the living room so that her children could do what needed to be done. She knew they would tell her later about what was going on. Thankfully, Baelish had feigned illness and was sequestered in his room, according to Lysa. Margaery promised to let Jaime and Brienne know what was happening, in case they needed police back-up.

“San, what’s going on?” asked Robb when the Starks were finally alone.

“Sandor and Bronn are missing. Baelish… I think he’s behind it, but I don’t know why or how. Bolton and Lannister may or may not be involved. It’s just a feeling,” she replied carefully. She didn’t want to distract the others with the details. They would call for Baelish’s head if they found out what he had done earlier to her, and that wouldn’t help Sandor right now.

“I think we all know the _why_ , San,” Robb said quietly. “Baelish is obvious in his attentions to you. Only Mother and aunt Lysa don’t see it. He doesn’t want you to have a boyfriend. He barely tolerates us around you and we’re your brothers.” Sansa clenched her jaw, feeling foolish. She had been trying to ignore the man for so long, she had blinded herself to facts like that.

“Well, Baelish is currently on bedrest due to feeling under the weather, or so aunt Lysa says. I dislocated his shoulder nearly an hour ago, so I suspect that’s the real reason.”

“Why did you--”

“Later, Rickon, but know that he deserved it, and it keeps him out of our hair for now. Everyone got their partner?”

They all looked down at their canine companions. Robb and Grey Wind, Jon and Ghost, Theon and Kraken, Arya and Nymeria, Bran and Summer, Rickon and Shaggy Dog. Sansa felt a pang of loss, remembering Lady. A nose snuffled at her hand. She looked down to see Stranger and smiled. _Lady would have liked him._ She knelt in front of Stranger and touched her forehead to his. _Help me, Stranger. Your master is missing. We need to find him._ As if he could hear her thoughts, he barked in agreement and licked her cheek. _Thank you._

“Alright, here’s their scents, breathe deep everyone,” she held out the two shirts, letting half of the pack have each shirt. They sniffed it, memorizing the smell of each of the two men. “Find.” The dogs immediately went to ground.

Both halves lead them to the door. _Shit, the fresh snow._ Rickon threw the door open as everyone grabbed their outdoor wear.

 

**********

It had been so long since they had run through the woods surrounding Winterfell, but it was second nature to them. It helped that the snow didn’t fall as much due to the thick canopy the trees created. They followed the dogs, leaping and bounding over and around obstacles, a true pack. She almost felt like she was flying as she ran. She kept her eyes on Stranger, following his lead. He knew Sandor’s scent the best, he would get her to him. _I will find him. I will always find him The gods help anyone who gets in my way._


	30. Sandor: Every Breath You Take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Every Breath You Take](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMOGaugKpzs)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

It was cold. Wherever he was, it was definitely cold. His head hurt from where he had been hit. _Damn cowards couldn’t even face me head on, had to come up behind me...and Bronn. Shit_. He forced his eyes open. It was dark, very little light available, most of the windows were blocked out, though the light he could see was fairly bright. He couldn’t see Bronn at all. He was sitting on the floor, his hands tied to a post behind him and feet tied together. He was wearing a thin white shirt and the flannel pajama bottoms Sansa had bought for him specifically for this trip. His fleece lined slippers were missing. So was his nice coat. “It gets colder than you think,” she had said when he questioned her on if he really needed it or not. _Sansa...did they do something to you too?_ He leaned back, wincing as the sore spot on his head touched the post. He tested the binding on his wrists. It gave a little, but not enough to wriggle out of them, and not enough to break them. He heard a groan behind him.

“Bloody hell, what the fuck hit me?”

“Bronn! That you?” Sandor asked.

“Yeah, though I wish it wasn’t. Where are we?”

Sandor looked around again. Nothing in the room looked familiar. “No idea. I’m not even sure we’re still on Winterfell grounds.”

“If it is, it’s near the outskirts. There’s no structure like this that I know of, but I don’t go around the perimeter much. The property surrounding the house is huge, mostly consisting of the Wolfwoods. Gods, Mar must be out of her mind with worry. I told her I’d be back soon. The sun is at full blast outside. Close to noon, I’d say.”

“Do you always ramble in situations like this?” Sandor asked irritably.

“Sorry, I’m...this has never happened to me before.” Bronn sounded depressed.

Sandor sighed, “I’m sorry, too. My head hurts and I can’t stop worrying about Sansa.” He strained at the ropes binding him. “Wait, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Sandor craned his neck, trying to see if he could hear it again. “Not sure. It’s gone now.”

Bronn groaned. “Tell me about it, how it’s going with her, I mean. Give me something to distract myself with.”

“Yes, do tell us how your relationship with _my_ Sansa is going. And then I’ll tell you how it ended,” a voice cut in. Sandor tried to turn to see who it was. It sounded like…

“Baelish! What the hell are you doing here?” Bronn asked. “And what do you mean, _your_ Sansa?”

Sandor growled as the man entered his field of vision. He was impeccably dressed, though his arm was in a sling. “She’s not yours.”

“Well, she’s certainly not _yours_. Not anymore. She thinks you were just using her. I spun her a lovely tale about how I confronted you over your dastardly deeds, and rather than face the consequences, you turned tail and ran away like the coward you are.” He wished he could wipe the smug smile off of Baelish’s face.

“And she believed you?” Bronn scoffed. “That’ll be the day. What tale did you _spin_ for my disappearance? I'm like a brother to her, like a son to Cat and Ned. The entire family has known me too long to believe that I would betray them.”

“They don't even know you're gone. Only my Sansa and Cat know the dog is gone. The rest of the household isn’t even awake yet. But never fear, they will find your body. Both of your bodies.  Along with damning evidence that the Hound here killed you when you tried to stop him from betraying the family you are so loyal to. You’ll be celebrated as a hero.”

“Oh? And what of me? What will fell the great and terrible Hound?” he sneered. “Surely you don't expect anyone to believe _you_ took me out. You’re no warrior.”

“They will believe what I tell them. My Sansa doesn't need a warrior, only me.”

 _There’s that sound again. What is it? Help? Reinforcements for Not Even A Minute Man over here?_ “No, she doesn't need a warrior. She already is one, but she _wants_ one. She tells me that every time she rides my cock, every time she begs me to enter her, every time she strips me down in her hurry to--”

“Shut up!” Baelish snarled. “My Sansa is a lady! She would never do any act as vulgar as mating with the likes of you. She can’t even stand the touch of another person.”

“She can stand mine,” Sandor said with a smirk. “All night long.” _Keep him talking, stall for the cavalry, and maybe, just maybe, it’ll jog something loose from those smarmy lips of his. Something I can use._

“First, TMI,” Bronn said, “That’s my sister you’re talking about. Second, she can stand my touch, too. I hug her all the time. And her family, of course. And her friends. Really, it’s only people she doesn't know or doesn't trust that she can't stand the touch of. Guess that explains why she won't let you anywhere near her, don't it?” Baelish left Sandor. He heard the sound of Bronn’s head thudding against something, probably another post. Bronn laughed, “Sandor, you’re right. This guy is definitely no warrior. He hits like a five-year-old with a cold. Got me right in the nose and I'm not even bleeding. Think he hurt his wittle hand though. Did you, Baelish? Did you get a boo boo on your wittle hand? Sansa would never go for a guy like you, you probably get winded on a walk.” Sandor heard another thud and a chuckle. “Kicks like a five-year-old too. Where did you even find this place? Serial Killers-R-Us? If you’re going to kill us anyway, why don’t you tell us where we are? Never seen a structure like this on the Winterfell grounds.”

“That’s because this is technically on the Twins estate. So close to Winterfell, but not close enough. Even old Walder has no idea this place exists,” Baelish stated. He seemed to be gloating over this fact. “I did the estate appraisal for him years ago. One of his ancestors built this little place as a way to get away from the family for a while, I suppose.”

_Well, that was relatively easy. Does he not care what he says since he considers us dead already? If only this were a story or a movie, he'd be guaranteeing that the good guys win by revealing his plans._

“So what happened to your arm, Baelish?” Sandor asked suddenly, trying to knock the man off his game. “Didn't see that injury at dinner last night. Did your wife finally get tired of your flash performances?” Baelish rounded on him, coming into view again. He face was twisted with rage, his lip curled up to expose those pearly whites. “Didn't even make it to a full minute, did you?”

“What?” laughed Bronn, “You’re joking!”

“What do you know of that?” Baelish demanded. Sandor barked a cruel laugh.

“Your room in Winterfell shares a wall with mine. Heard everything you did and said with that sorry imitation of Cat and Sansa you call your wife. I could see how she was pretty once, but time and jealousy caught up with her, didn’t it? What’s your endgame, Baelish? You can’t possibly want Sansa for just her looks, for how much she resembles your precious Cat, can you? Or are you that superficial? No, Sansa told me of your ambition. You already have your own business, and now Vale Industries. What could you gain from Sansa, who can’t stand you?”

Baelish picked up a wrench from a nearby table and drove it into Sandor’s knee. He winched from the pain, but did not cry out. He didn’t want Baelish to know that it hurt like a bitch. _Give me your aggression, Baelish, I can take it. And monologue like the villain you are, while you’re at it_. He knew it was a long shot, but he could hear that sound again. It was closer. He only hoped it was the cavalry he was stalling for, and not henchmen.

Baelish hissed in his face, the heavy scent of mint choking Sandor, “I stand to gain _everything_ , you savage. I have been wooing her for months, sending her love letters, flowers and gifts, tokens of my affection! She will be my wife, and we will have our beautiful children, and stand at the top of King’s Landing, with the power of the Vale and Winterfell behind us!”  _Wooing her for...it's HIM?! He's the stalker/kidnapper?!_

“Bullshit,” spat Bronn. “You’d have to divorce Lysa first, and she’ll kill you before she divorces you. Then you’d have to get rid of Ned and Cat, and then Robb, who is his heir, and Robb’s wife and children.Then Jon. Oh, and don’t forget Theon and his wife. He is officially a Stark, and is next in line after Robb and Jon as an heir. That’s...one, two...eight people you’d have to get rid of before Sansa would be considered the heir.”

Baelish looked bored. “Been meaning to finish off Ned anyway. That mugger really botched the only task I gave him. At the very least, Ned’s been out of the picture enough for me to work peacefully. Lysa’s outlived her usefulness. I won’t miss her much. As for the rest of the Starks, they’ll all be gone, even the younger ones, leaving Sansa in my care.”

“You’re insane if you think that will work. She’s fiercely protective of her family. You kill them, you might as well have signed your own death warrant,” Bronn threatened.

“She can never find out then, now can she?” Baelish sneered. “Boys!” he called out. Sandor heard footsteps approach, and then Bronn hissing out _Kettleblacks_. “You know Osmund, Osney and Osfryd, don’t you? I hear you’re old chums from back in the day. Boys, you know what to do. Make sure they’re not found easily.”

“Sir, we have movement in the woods. Motion sensors were set off. Possible search party.”

Baelish frowned. “It’s too soon. Probably just a herd of deer, though don’t waste any time, just to be on the safe side.”

Sandor was greeted by Osmund’s fist to his face. He managed to turn his head and deflect some of the impact, but his head was still spinning as he was untied. Osmund and Osney had to work together to drag him out. They passed by an open room. Sandor noted the mattress and the stainless steel toilet. He also noted the hashmarks on the wall. Even in his woozy state, he could easily see how many marks there were, grouped together in fives. Fifty-two. _Well, shit_.


	31. Sansa: My Baby Shot Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Bang Bang](https://youtu.be/T5Xl0Qry-hA)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

The pack was poised at the edge of the Wolfswood. They were near the border of Winterfell and Twins land, if they hadn’t passed it already. Robb had already contacted the house, giving Jaime and Brienne the GPS coordinates. Luckily, there was an old service road that lead up to the building. It would take a bit, but they’d be able to bring vehicles.

Sansa felt her tension coiled inside her, ready to strike. Arya and Nymeria were scouting ahead around an old, but cared for, building they had been lead to by the dogs. The building wasn’t far away, but they stayed back just in case. Robb had called Jaime as soon as they found the place. She looked down at Stranger. His ears were back, his body tense. He was one command away from bolting towards the building. She knew Sandor was in there, and most likely Bronn as well, but if there was anyone else…

Arya communicated with hand signals: two friendlies, four enemies. Move in and surround.  _Shit._ The original plan was to wait for the police. Arya must have heard them say something that was now changing that plan.

Following Arya’s hand signs, they split the pack, each half going around each side of the building. One of the Kettleblacks exited first with a punch drunk Bronn, followed shortly by the other two Kettleblacks who were dragging Sandor. She frowned. She had met Osmund before, but not really the other two. Something about the youngest looking one was nagging at the back of her brain. Robb gave the signal to wait. Only three extra people had been counted so far, and they were all lackeys. Sansa could honestly say she was surprised to see Baelish exit the building last, considering she thought he was still at the house.  _Why did I think otherwise? Should have known he’d be here._

Rickon and Shaggy Dog stepped out first. Surprise and numbers were on their side. Bronn and Sandor were dropped by their captors, but they were too out of it to contribute. The Starks circled around the three brothers, Robb and Theon took the last Kettleblack, Jon and Arya took the second, and Bran and Rickon took the first, leaving Baelish to Sansa. The Kettleblacks had their hands full carrying the men, leaving Rickon and Theon the freedom to relieve them of their guns. She could see her siblings had the Kettleblack brothers well in hand. The dogs had formed a protective circle around them all, in case one of them tried to make a run for it. Such was the case with one Petyr Baelish. Stranger stopped him dead in his tracks, growling menacingly at the man.

“Leaving so soon, Mr. Baelish? The party is just getting started!” she said, stepping out from her hiding spot. She did enjoy that look of utter astonishment on his face before he collected himself. She was disappointed to see that his dislocated shoulder had been fixed, though it was probably still tender.  _One of the Kettleblacks must have medic training. No maester or nurse at Winterfell would have been able to help him and NOT tell Mother about the injury._

“Sansa, sweetling, what are you doing here? And your siblings, you should all be at home. I found your missing person. He was trying to hide out back here, Bronn was trying to stop him, but...you can see what he did to the poor man. Any man woul--”

Sansa held her hand up, “Can it, Baelish. If you think any of us would believe that, you don’t know us at all. I’m still amazed you thought I believed your lies this morning. Sandor wouldn’t leave me like that.”

“Sweetling, he’s all wrong for you. Can’t you see that?” Baelish gave her what she could only assume was supposed to be a shy smile.

Her eyes narrowed on him, “And who would you say is ‘right’ for me? Surely not Sweetrobin.”

“While the boy is quite taken with you, no, he is not right for you.” Baelish licked his lips. “No, I believe the right man for you is already in your life, someone close to you, someone who would protect you, keep you safe like the precious gift that you are. He will reveal himself in due time.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need someone to ‘keep me safe’. I can do that just fine on my own.”

“San...sa…” Sandor moaned from his place on the ground. Her heart clenched. Arya was checking on Bronn already, and crawled over to Sandor. She had to really lean down to hear what he was saying. She nodded at him and rose to her feet. 

“Nymeria, watch that one,” Arya told her partner, pointing to the one Sansa thought was Osney. She walked towards the building, grabbing Baelish by the injured arm. “San, come with me. Sandor says there’s something you have to see. This one is coming, too.”

“I really don’t think there’s anything of interest in here, it’s just an old, unused building,” Baelish said, trying to resist Arya, but failing miserably. It was dark inside, and she struggled as her eyes adjusted. Arya didn’t seem to have any problems.

“Funny, Sandor said the opposite. In fact, he thinks Sansa would be  _very_ interested in seeing, oh, I believe it’s this one. Sansa, anything in there of interest?” She pointed to a room. Sansa had a sudden sinking feeling. 

“How did you find this place, Baelish?” she asked, her feet rooted to the spot.

“I was searching for Clegane and Blackwater with the Kettleblacks, and--”

“Enough! Can you speak anything but lies? Or is that merely your native tongue?” Sansa demanded. She looked back at the room. Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the dimmer light, but she knew what was in there.

“Sansa, what is it?” Arya asked. Her voice was laced with worry.

“It was you, Baelish?” she couldn’t stop the waver in her voice. 

Baelish looked uncomfortable. “I’m not sure what you are talking about. What was me?” Arya tightened her hold on his arm and he hissed in pain.

Sansa looked at him with venom in her glare. Things were beginning to click into place. “The night at the club, one of the Kettleblacks was hanging out with Joffrey. At your  _behest?_ He was the one that jumped them, wasn’t he?”

Baelish shrugged. “I may have asked Osfryd to watch out for you on occasion. For your own protection.”

“The letters, the gifts, that was you too? My stalker,” she hissed.

“I was wooing you. Once Lysa was out of the picture, I would have revealed myself.”

Her breath hitched, becoming shallow and erratic as her heartbeat sped up. “If...If I ask the police to run your DNA, it will match the sample in my kidnapping case, won’t it?” She heard Arya’s sharp intake of breath. “Was it you that raped me until I--” she fell to her hands and knees, her body wracked with sobs.  _“Was it you?!”_ Her hand went to her womb. She saw the flicker in his eyes.

“That baby would have been the first of many,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. She launched herself at him, but he used his good arm and spun Arya into her. The two girls tumbled to the ground, and both heard the click of a gun cocking. 

_Where in the seven hells did he hide that?_

“Years of work, down the drain. I tried to give you the heir you would need, but you went and got rid of it. I tried to woo you with sweet words and pretty gifts. Now I have to use extreme coercion. Such a pity. Sansa, you  _will_ marry me, and we will rule over King’s Landing, and eventually all of Westeros, maybe even the entire world.”

“And if I say no?” she dared him.

“Then I will kill your sister, all of your brothers, and the rest of the people currently residing in Winterfell. Clegane and Bronn will be the scapegoats, and I will be the hero that stopped them, but not before you, the last remaining Stark, declared your undying love for me, marrying me in the quaint little sept on the Winterfell grounds and making me the sole heir of all of Winterfell. You will die last, so that you can watch them all suffer, and know that you could have prevented all that tragedy. So, my dear, really think about it, are you sure you’d rather annihilate your entire family and all those guests, just because you want to rut with a dog?”

Sansa gaped at him. “Are you completely mental? There is no way that plan would possibly work! None of it could  _ever_ have worked!”

“Of course it would, and you would help me carry it out. Sansa, my sweetling, we could be so much in love if you would only let me in.”

Sansa clenched her jaw.  _Gods. He’s insane. Really and completely insane. Is that how it will end? Taken down by a mad man with dreams of grandeur? No. Not like this. Why did it have to be like this?_

_“Your mask.”_

She looked up, confused. Baelish hadn’t heard it. Neither had Arya by the looks of it.

_“Sweetheart, push aside your fear and hesitance. And then finish him.”_

“Father,” she whispered. Baelish shoved the barrel into her cheek.

“Yes, even your father will be gone. Now, Sansa, what is your answer? I don’t have all day.”

She closed her eyes. She could feel Arya watching her, Baelish too. And a third presence. She felt a ghostly hand pat her on the head, and lips kiss her cheek.  _“You’re my strong girl. You look so much like your mother, but you are so much more like my sister. Give him hell, Sansa.”_

When she opened her eyes again, her mask was in place. She looked up at him. He was startled at first, shifting uncomfortably. She knew what he saw. It was the same thing all her opponents in the octagon saw. Death was hunting them. “What? What is it? You made your decision?”

“The Stranger is coming for you,” she said softly.

“I’m sure. The Stranger comes for all of us, but not today.”

“Valar morghulis,” Arya said from behind her. 

She tilted her head, the cool metal of the gun raking lightly over her warmed skin in a gentle caress. She looked at him with dead, ice cold eyes, “Kind of hard to kill someone when you have the safety on, isn’t it?”

He looked down at the gun and that is when she struck. She shoved the gun to the side. He fired, but the bullet hit only wood. She simultaneously twisted his wrist so that he dropped the gun and swept his legs out from under him. Arya scrambled for the gun, getting it out of his reach. Sansa brought him back up to his knees, his arms locked behind him. She hissed in his ear, “I am about to  _break_ you. Still want me as a wife?”

“Mercy, sweetling,” he gasped. “Mercy and I will forgive you this transgression.” 

“Wrong answer.” She let go of his arms and grasped his head in her hands, squeezing with her full strength. He cried out in pain. She would show no mercy, give no quarter. She snapped his neck to the side, hearing the crack of bones and let his body fall to the ground with a thump. 


	32. Sandor: Wake Me Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Wake Me Up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IcrbM1l_BoI)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

Sandor’s vision was coming back in to focus slowly. He was on a stretcher, in the back of an ambulance. Jaime and Brienne (along with Drogo, Dany, Ygritte, and Gendry) had come running when Robb had called, and had also had the presence of mind to call in the local authorities, Sheriff Rodrick Cassel and his deputies. The Kettleblack brothers were currently in custody, and not saying a word since they saw their boss brought by on a second stretcher. Baelish was moaning something about empires and titans. Sansa was sitting next to him, wrapped in a blanket. She was holding his hand, staring at it, her thumb stroking the back of his hand absentmindedly. He smiled when he saw the string still wrapped around her finger.

“There’s my knight in shining armor,” he murmured. She looked down at him and smiled.

“I’m no knight, boy.”

“Oh, but I beg to differ, you are. You rescued me, a dainty maiden in distress!” He put her hand to his heart and said in a very bad southern belle accent, “Oh whatevuh would ah ‘ave done without you, good ser?”

She smiled broader and replied, “I wasn’t saving you, I was saving my future.”

He grinned, “And how’s that work?”

“Well, without you in it, I have none. Or at least, it would not be as bright a future.” She let go of his hand to lean forward and kiss him. “As you can see from here, the Kettleblacks are under arrest, and Baelish is headed to the hospital, also under arrest. Bronn’s ok, by the way. He’s in another ambulance and Margaery is fussing over him. He’s milking it for all it’s worth.”

Sandor snorted. “No surprise there.”

She kissed him again. Her eyes held no joy, only worry. “I was really scared for you today. What the hell happened when you left the bed?”

He swallowed hard, biting back tears and trying to not let her concern for his wellbeing overwhelm him with emotion.  _Damn, it’s been a trying day. Not usually this weepy._

“I...after we fucked, you fell asleep, but I stayed up listening to the Baelishes talk. It really got my attention when Petyr said that he ‘should have gotten that junkie to kill the dog outright’.”

Sansa’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean…”

“Yeah, your uncle was the reason that guy attacked me. The guy who replaced me in the championship match must have a connection to Baelish. I called the KLPD last night, left a message about it. That call I got this morning was about that. They had contacted the local sheriff already, and he was going to send someone to pick Baelish up for questioning first thing in the morning. I came back in, saw you sleeping so peacefully, and tied the string around your finger in case you woke up before I got back.”

“We’ll visit that little tidbit after you tell me the rest,” she said, grinning. “What happened next?”

“I was too hyped up to fall back asleep, so I went over to Bronn’s room to ask him about...some stuff that shall be visited later. We were standing out on the covered patio, just talking, and then something hit me in the back of the head, knocked me out. I woke up in that building with Bronn, tied up, and then Baelish comes in, talking about how he’s going to live happily ever after with you after he gets rid of me and Bronn. I tried to stall, but…”

“You did well on that. Arya was listening in when Baelish had you in there. She said you were egging him on, getting him to talk. That gave us time. When they brought you out, we were ready for them, though I’m not sure you realized it at the moment.” She smoothed back his hair from his face. 

“And Baelish? You went back into the building with him, but he, uh, wasn’t exactly able to walk when he came back out.”

“Ah, yes, well, officially, he threatened me and I had no choice but to defend myself. I may have  _accidentally_ damaged his spinal cord during the scuffle. He’ll live, but he’ll be a quadriplegic for the rest of his days.” She looked more than a bit pleased with herself.

“And what really happened?”

She looked around and then said, “The official story lacks some of the details. I snapped after finding out a lot of bitter truth, but in the end, I’m couldn’t kill him, I only incapacitated him, but I will settle for that.”

He smiled, “I would have just killed him, but your way is good, too.”

She was silent for a few moments. “I  _meant_ to kill him. When I broke his neck, turns out I only damaged it, I didn’t sever the spinal cord completely. The self-defense isn’t completely true. He did have a gun on me, but I had more control over the situation than he did.” Sandor frowned, but Sansa did not see it and continued. “No one threatens my family and gets away with it,” she whispered. “Never again. No one will ever hurt them, you or me ever again. Or I’ll kill them.”

“Don’t let the hate overtake you, little bird,” Sandor warned. “That’s a dark path and you were meant for the light.”

“It feels like I’ve been in darkness too long, sometimes…” she lowered her head as she spoke. “Like it’s part of me and it’s never going to go away.”

He sighed and said, “You’ve lived through dark times, more than most people. It  _is_ a part of you, but it does not define you. Little bird, you are a wonderful person, and you are made up of all your experiences, not just the bad ones. I wouldn’t want you any differently.”

“Really? You don’t think it’s horrible that I nearly killed my uncle by marriage?” She gave him a doubtful look.

He laughed. “Well, key word there is ‘nearly.’ I don’t think it’s good that you wanted to do it because you would have regretted it. On the other hand, I can’t really cast judgement since I wanted to kill him too and I would have. You didn’t kill him after all, so, no, I don’t think it’s horrible. Completely understandable actually. Are you being charged with anything?”

She shook her head. “No, self-defense and all.” She was fiddling with the string he had left on her finger.

He cleared his throat. “So, awkward timing, but before anything else happens, I would like to revisit the, um, string.” He held his hand out to her. She lay her hand in his, a small smile playing on her lips. “I was practicing what I wanted to say, so try not to laugh if it gets cheesy, ok?” She nodded, trying to suppress a broad smile and failing miserably. 

“Little bird, in the eyes of the Old Gods, we are husband and wife, but in the eyes of the Seven and the law of Westeros, we are not. I would like to rectify that. We haven’t known each other for very long, but it doesn’t feel like it. I cannot imagine my life without you. ‘You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you and never wish to be parted from you from this day on.’” She smiled at his quote. 

She brought his hand up and whispered the next line, “‘Well, then,’” before kissing his knuckles. “Oh my goodness, your hands really are cold!” she exclaimed. She took her blanket off and wrapped it around him as best she could. He laughed.

“Well, I wasn’t really dressed for a day out in this weather when I got kidnapped. Plus, both my jacket and my warm slippers went missing.”

“We’ll get you some new ones if we can’t find them,” she promised.

He grasped her hands in his, “I’ll have your answer first, I would be honored to dedicate the remainder of my days to you. My little bird, goddess divine, Sansa, will you marry me?”

She smiled, “Of course I will, you lummox. As if there was ever a doubt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy!
> 
> Ok, so I forgot to mention something yesterday, the image of Sansa in the picset (the one from right before she tries to push Joff into the dry moat and Sandor stops her) is actually one of my original inspirations for this story.
> 
> Also...I haven't finished this story yet...I'm trying really hard to, but winding down is taking longer than I anticipated. So for right now, the final chapter is Chapter ? and will be like that until the very end. Sorry? You're getting more chapters, just not sure how many more...


	33. Sansa: Love Me Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Love Me Do](https://youtu.be/ZXDgn4OTnjU)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

The visit to the hospital didn’t take as long as everyone anticipated. An advantage to living in such a sparsely populated area was that there wasn’t a long line most places. Sandor and Bronn were released within hours of being admitted, and everyone headed over to Hot Pie’s Diner for a late lunch. Catelyn went to the police station with Jaime and Brienne after that. Everyone else headed back to Winterfell.

Sansa found some slippers for Sandor to wear, as promised. He raised his good eyebrow at the blue monsters that looked like they were snacking on his ankles. She shrugged and then offered actual shoes.

“Cheeky little bird,” he murmured before kissing her forehead. She smiled, enjoying the tender affection.

“There’s been more news,” she said. They were back to his room at Winterfell. He was sore from the ordeal, but that didn’t stop him from snuggling with Sansa. “I kept thinking to myself that Baelish had to be insane for any of the things he said to make sense. Turns out, I was right. He’s being submitted for a psychiatric evaluation. Also, it turns out his business isn’t doing so well. Hasn’t been for a few years. He’s only managed to keep it afloat by funnelling money from Vale Industries into it, which is now also on the verge of tanking. it seems that he’s not the great businessman everyone believed him to be. Jaime said his business dying was probably the stressor. He never loved anyone, not really, but he loved his business, it was his baby. He was on the verge of selling the entire thing to Bolton when Lysa’s first husband died. She offered to marry him to save him. Apparently, she also killed her husband in order to do that. She was furious when she found out about his obsession with me, that he had ‘put a baby in me’ and not in her, and blurted out the entire thing to the police. She doesn’t seem to realize how much trouble she’s in. She’s also being submitted for an evaluation.”

“She never really struck me as being right in the head,” Sandor said wryly.

Sansa nodded. "They really were perfect for each other, in a very twisted way. Oh, the Kettleblacks are being charged as accomplices. Not only in your and Bronn’s kidnapping, but also in mine, as well as charges of assault.”

Sandor frowned. “I wasn’t asked about pressing charges for assault.”

She shook her head. She actually felt bad about this, though not as much as she would have if the person attacked had been an innocent. “Not yours, at least, not yet. The assault charges are for Joffrey and his buddies. The night we met, there was an altercation that landed Joffrey, Meryn and Boros in the ICU. I didn’t think much about it at the time because we had left long before it happened. Somewhere in all of this mess, I realized I had seen Osfryd somewhere before, specifically, he was with Joffrey that night. He had hidden his face somewhat, probably so you wouldn’t recognize him, but I had seen him before that. It just took me a while to realize it, since the club wasn’t exactly well lit. Tywin has been notified and will be taking Joffrey down to the station for a line-up, once they get transferred back to King’s Landing. He and Bolton are also pissed at Baelish for deceiving them. They were about to invest a ton of money into Baelish’s next venture. They’re working with the KLPD and Winter Town Sheriff’s Department to have him prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

“They’re going away for a while, aren’t they?” Sandor asked.

She looked at him. “For a very long time,” she whispered. She nuzzled him. “Sleep, Sandor. You need your rest. Doctor’s orders.”

 

**********

She sat in her father’s recliner and watched her siblings and the guests in a bit of a daze, absentmindedly petting Stranger who sat next to her. Bronn and Margaery were absent. As well as Sandor, who was upstairs, sleeping and healing. _My husband, though only in the eyes of the Old Gods for the time being. Mother will be thrilled. She never got to have much involvement in Arya’s wedding, Mrs. Westerling and Mrs. Poole had more involvement in Robb and Theon’s weddings. Ygritte’s mother passed away, but she and Jon would probably have a very small ceremony if any, considering she’s as true a Wildling as any of them. What do the Southron call it? Common Law marriage! That’s it. Bran might marry Jojen, and Rickon might marry Shireen, but they’re both at points in their relationships that it’s too early to know. Granted, I should be at that point too, but…_ She smiled to herself. _I really don’t see a future without him. We’re more than just boyfriend and girlfriend. It’s like we’re…_ Her eyes went wide and she wanted to smack herself, but resigned to only sighing heavily.

“What’s wrong, chicken thong?” Arya asked, popping up from out of nowhere, Nym at her heels.

Sansa laughed, “Chicken thong?” Arya shrugged and grinned. “Nothing’s wrong, per se…”

Arya nestled into the recliner next to Sansa. “But?”

Sansa pursed her lips thoughtfully, “But...I just started having horrid, horrible thoughts.”

“Horrid, you say?”

Sansa nodded. “Yes, absolutely horrid. Thoughts I believed myself to be beyond. Thoughts I outgrew when...when Joffrey happened to me.”

Arya eyed her sister, “And what horrid thoughts would these be?”

“Thoughts of true love, soulmates, and a happily ever after. Thoughts that belong in songs and fairy tales.” She sighed again. “Thoughts that Sandor is my long-awaited for prince.”

“Oh, you’re right. That is horrid. Prince Hound is on the loose.” Arya leaned back into the recliner. Nym sat on the floor in front of them and lay her head on Sansa’s lap. Stranger got up and did the same, licking Nym’s muzzle affectionately. Nym looked unimpressed and nipped at him. “Call the newspapers, people need to be warned about you.” Sansa smacked Arya lightly. The younger Stark girl giggled. “C’mon, San! Lighten up. It’s not that terrible. Terrible would be if you went back to Joffrey. Terrible would be if you had let Harry into your life after that scene he made in the Student Union. _Completely and irreversibly terrible_ would be if you had given into Baelish’s insane demands. Figuring out that the love of your life makes you have childish thoughts, _not that terrible._ ”

“Ok, fine, but what makes you say he’s the love of my life? Maybe...maybe I just like him…a lot,” Sansa said, raising an eyebrow.

Arya scoffed, “Uh, _you say._ You both do, every single time you’re around each other. The way you look at him, and the way he looks back. The way you act around him, the way you are more like yourself from before the kidnapping and before Joffrey. Oh, and let’s not forget the little fact that you took matters into your own hands to get him back. You could have waited for the police. The Hound would probably have been killed by the time they got to him, but you were so desperate to find him, so worried about him, you put yourself into harm’s way to do it. You confronted Baelish for yourself, but everything else...it was all for him,” Arya looked over at Gendry. “It’s the same thing Gendry would do for me.”

“Arya…”

“You’re a lot like him, you know. Like Gendry, I mean. You’re both soft spoken. You both have difficulty showing your true feelings. But you both are fiercely protective. He’s like a bull, stubborn and single-minded. You...you’re going to hate this, but you’re like a mockingbird.”

Sansa growled a warning, “Arya…”

“I know, I know, Baelish used that as a personal emblem, but he didn’t embody the _true_ spirit of the animal, so hear me out. Have you ever read up on mockingbirds?” Sansa shook her head. “Dad has a bunch of books on animals, you should try reading them sometime. Fascinating. Anyway, mockingbirds are called that because they can mimic the cries of other birds, other animals, and that is probably what attracted Baelish to it, but his use of it is different from how an actual mockingbird uses their voice. They use it to display their skills and attract a mate. Most birds can tell the difference between the real call and the mockingbird’s version, so it’s not like they’re fooling anyone. Plus,” she pulled out her phone and quickly pulled up a website, “reading directly from Westerpedia here, ‘Mockingbirds aggressively defend their nests and surrounding areas against other birds and animals. When a predator is persistent, mockingbirds that are summoned by distinct calls from neighboring territories may join the attack. Other birds may gather to watch as the mockingbirds harass the intruder. In addition to harassing domestic cats and dogs they consider a threat, it is not unheard of for mockingbirds to target humans. The birds are absolutely unafraid and will attack much larger birds, even hawks. One famous incident in the Westerlands involving a postal carrier resulted in the distribution of a warning letter to residents.’ Now, doesn’t that sound a lot like what you did for Sandor? Not the harassment part, I mean, the defending part. And nothing like what Baelish would do.”

Sansa considered this. She hated that Arya was right. “Lots of birds do that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, but mockingbirds are _known_ for it.” Sansa didn’t have a response for that. Arya leaned into her sister. “San, are you going to marry him? Sandor, I mean.”

“Why do you ask?”

Arya shrugged. “Seeing you two together, sometimes I forget that you’re not married yet. You just...you fit together. He makes you smile again. Really smile. He’s the only person outside of the family that’s been able to do that.”

Sansa was quiet for a while. “Yeah, I’m going to marry him. He has officially asked me, too. There’s no question in either of our minds.” She looked down at the string on her finger. “Not a single one.”

**********

The next morning, Sheriff Rodrik asked to see Sansa. She checked up on Sandor before heading out to the station. He was still sleeping, so she left him a note, telling him where she had gone. Jaime and Brienne offered her a ride. Jaime wanted to get to the market in town and find his favorite sugary cereal that Catelyn had banned from the house, on account of it being too much for the children.

“Did the sheriff say what he wanted to speak to you about?” Brienne asked as they pulled out of the Winterfell driveway. Jaime was pouting in the backseat, having lost the coveted position of shotgun.

Sansa would have smirked, but… “He said that it concerns Baelish. He didn’t say anything more specific.”

“Ah,” was all Brienne said.

“You know anything about it?” Sansa asked lightly, trying to hide her apprehension.

Brienne sighed. Jaime spoke up, “Baelish has been asking to talk to you since they took him in. It’s all he’ll say actually. We had all hoped that spending the night in a handcuffs and a hospital bed would wake him up a bit, but…” he sighed as well. “Sansa, if you don’t want to talk to him, we can take you back to Winterfell. Sheriff Rodrick shouldn’t have asked you to come in for this.”

“I’ll think about it and give him my answer once we get there,” she said softly.

“Ok, we should be able to finish quickly at the sheriff’s department and then the supermarket for my Sugar Bomb cereal, and head back. I’m sure Sandor would prefer you be nursing him back to health than worrying over a psycho,” Jaime said decidely.

**********

Sansa walked into the station behind Jaime and Brienne. Sheriff Rodrick met them cheerfully, though his smile was strained. “Miss Stark! I wasn’t expecting you to come with Officers Lannister and Tarth.”

“That’s Tarth and Lannister,” Jaime corrected. “She’s the boss in this partnership. I’m the mouth/face.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Sheriff, I believe we discussed yesterday that Baelish should not be indulged in his requests. Why did you ask for Sansa to come see you?”

The sheriff sighed. “He claims to have more information, and will only give it to us if he can speak to Miss Stark.”

“Sheriff--”

“Brienne, it’s ok.” Sansa turned to the sheriff. “I’ll speak to him,” the man relaxed visibly, “but...I would like to wait for Sandor to be able to come with me, if that’s ok.”

“Oh, yes, of course. That’s understandable. Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after?” he asked.

“Yes, that sounds fine. Merry Sevenmas, Sheriff.”

“Merry Sevenmas, Miss Stark.”


	34. Sandor: A Place To Belong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

The alarm on his phone went off, waking him from a nice dream of being at the beach with Sansa. He groaned, it had just gotten to the good part too, she had been about to discard her bathing suit. He banged his hand on the unfamiliar surroundings, trying to locate the offensive sound and shut it off.

The incessant blaring now gone, he looked around the room. A note was on Sansa’s pillow. He grabbed it and read it, still not fully awake.

 

_Sandor,_  
_Sheriff needed to speak to me. I’ll be back_  
_as soon as I can. Get dressed and go_  
_downstairs, Mother will have breakfast_  
_waiting for you. Call Bronn if you get lost._  
_Yours, Sansa_

 

He grumbled. If she was going to the sheriff’s station, he had wished she had waited for him. _Independent little bird, but that’s one of my favorite things about her. Well, might as well shower and get some food. Starvin’ now._

He padded down the carpeted stairs in his newly acquired blue monster slippers. He hadn’t felt up to getting nicely dressed, and was wearing his old black sweatpants with the Hound logo in yellow on the side, with a plain, white t-shirt and a grey hooded jacket. Even inside the nice, warm mansion, he was still a little cold.

“Hound!” Arya said to him as he rounded the corner. “You’re up! Here, take Neddy, he’s being naughty and trying to get into the presents early. He’s wily, so watch out.” She handed over the five-year-old who wrapped his little arms around Sandor’s neck and muttered a _g’mornin’_ in a frustrated voice. Clearly, he understood why he required adult supervision and was not happy about it. “Huh…” Arya said, staring at them.

“What?”

“Nothing, just...Neddy almost looks like he could be your son.” Sandor raised an eyebrow and glanced down at the child, who was staring up at him. Grey eyes from his mother, black hair from his father, the child did bare a passing resemblance to him.

“I s’pose?”

“It’s just interesting. Any kids you and Sansa have, they’ll probably look like him. Grey eyes and black hair are more dominant, biologically speaking.” She shrugged, “Anyway, just keep him out of the living room. He has yet to eat, since he’s been trying to sneak into the presents. Mom set up a breakfast buffet in the dining room.” She pointed a finger at Neddy, “You, little mister, will be in big trouble if I see you before it’s time.”

The child nodded sullenly. “Yes, momma. Unca Sand’r, can I have pancakes?”

He was startled by the kid’s chosen title for him, but said, “Let’s go see what’s available,” and headed to the dining room.

**********

Most of the Stark brood were busy doing the finishing touches for Sevenmas. Their children and mother, along with some of the guests, were lounging in the dining room, eating a late breakfast. Neddy refused to sit in his chair and insisted on being carried to choose from the buffet. A servant followed them with an empty tray, ready to carry their food. Normally, he’d wave the guy off and carry his own damn food, but since little Ned was refusing to be let down, he was grateful for the help. “Unca Sand’r, can I have choc'late pancakes?”

“Dunno, pup. Are there chocolate pancakes available?” Neddy looked down at the buffet and shook his head. “Then I guess that’s a no. There are silver stag pancakes, and full sized pancakes, but I think you might be in luck. I spy, with my good eye, three different kinds of syrup, and one of those syrups, looks like chocolate.”

Neddy squealed and clapped his little hands together. “Lil’ pancakes, please!” The servant smiled and gathered pancakes onto Neddy’s plate.

“Anything else you want, pup?”

“Uuuummmmmmm, no?”

“You sure? Growing boys need more than pancakes to get big and strong.”

“Like you, Unca?”

“Yeah, sure. Like me. So, still sure you only want pancakes?” He was greatly amused as the kid furrowed his brow in deep concentration.

“Ummm...what are you gonna eat, Unca?”

Sandor looked at the available choices. “Let’s see, I’ll probably have two pancakes, some scrambled eggs, and some fruit, and some apple juice.”

“I’ll have that, too!! But lil’ pancakes. ‘Cause I’m lil’.”

“Ok, pup.” He turned to the servant, “He’ll have the same, but uh, not as much “

“Of course, ser. Take your seats and I’ll bring the food to you,” the man said.

“Not a ser,” Sandor said automatically, and carried Neddy back to the table and attempted to sit him in a chair next to Catelyn.

“Noooooo, I want to sit with you, Unca Sand’r!” Neddy pleaded. Catelyn chuckled.

“Neddy, come sit with grandmother. I’m sure Sandor will be more than happy to sit next to us.”

“OK!!!” He hopped out of Sandor’s arms and onto Catelyn’s lap.

The servant placed their food in front of them. “Matching breakfasts for the two strong guys,” he said, winking at Neddy. The child beamed happily and reached for the syrup.

“So, Sandor, how are you feeling? Is your head doing ok?” Catelyn asked, helping Neddy pour the coveted chocolate syrup onto his pancakes.

“Yeah, doctors said I didn’t have a concussion. So there’s that.”

“Unca Sand’r got an owie?” Neddy asked with a mouth full of eggs.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full, sweetie. Yes, Sandor...had an accident and hit his head, but he says he’s doing better,” Catelyn said.

“Were you runnin’ in socks? That’s how I got this,” Neddy said, pointing at a scar on his eyebrow.

Sandor laughed. “Something like that, pup.”

**********

Sansa still wasn’t back yet. Catelyn told him that a trip to town could take a while and took over watching Neddy, allowing Sandor to wander around the house. Stranger was playing with the Stark pack somewhere. He had never seen his dog so happy. Usually he didn’t like going to the dog park, but to be fair, most of the dogs were half his size and couldn’t keep up with his energy like the Stark pack could.

He found himself in a familiar hallway.

 _Ned Stark’s room is down this way._ He walked towards it. The door was open and he could hear the nurse mumbling to herself. He knocked on the door and she looked up. She was an older woman, wearing bright pink scrubs, her hair tied back in a severe bun.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh, I just wanted to...uh, sit with him for a bit, if that’s ok?” Sandor asked.

The nurse stared at him. “Name?”

“Sandor Clegane.”

She looked down at the clipboard, flipping through a few papers, and writing a note down. “Sure. I’m done here. If you need assistance, press this button.” She pointed at a button on the bed. “It connects to my beeper. I’ll come running like a bat out of the Seven Hells, so only press it in an emergency.”

“Ok, I’ll be careful. Thank you...uh..”

“Nurse Mordane. Nice to meet you, Mr. Clegane.” She walked out of the room.

“You, too,” he called after her. He sat in the chair next to Ned. He was quiet for a few moments. “Mr. Stark, it’s nice to see you again. I...I’m not sure what to say...Sansa said you might be able to hear us. So I thought…” He fell silent, not sure what he had thought, or why he was here. He had been wanting to come see Ned, but now that he was here, he didn’t know what to say. Well, he did, but saying it felt like jumping in the deep side of the pool before you learned to swim. _Start with something easy._

“I remember more of the time we spent together as children. I think the bump on my head may have knocked more memories loose.” He laughed nervously. “I remembered the day I met you. My grandmother was always making sweets, and she made these lemon cakes. I wanted to see Sansa again, but I was nervous. Nana sent me to your house the day after I met Sansa with a plate just loaded with them. I remember you opened the door, looked down at this scrawny seven-year-old carrying this huge plate of cakes, and asked if I was selling door-to-door.” Sandor laughed. “I was so scared of you, ser. You had such a stern look on your face, I nearly ran out of there, but Sansa saw me, came running up and tackled me. You managed to grab the plate before I dropped it. She declared right then and there that I was her knight and that she would marry me. You laughed, but welcomed me into your home. You were a better father to me in those months that I stayed with my grandparents than my own father ever was. He wasn’t a bad father, but he wasn’t a good father either, and I just...I wanted to say that I appreciate you putting up with me, and allowing me a friendship with Sansa, with all your children.” He pulled on his sleeve cuff nervously.

“Mr. Stark...I’m in love with your daughter. Sansa, I mean. Arya seems nice and all, but not really my type. She loves me, too. I wanted to tell you, I’ve asked her to marry me and she said yes. I don’t know if she’s told anyone yet, the last twenty-four hours have been kind of crazy in general. I wanted to speak to you about it before I asked her, or at least speak _at_ you about it, but after Baelish and his goons kidnapped me and Bronn, and then your kids rescued us...I didn’t want to waste another moment not telling her, not knowing if she felt the same way I did. I mean, I was pretty sure she felt the same way, but it’s nice having confirmation, you know?” He ran his fingers over his opposite arm. “Shit, sorry ser, I’m not...I’m not very good at this. Sansa’s the wordsmith. I’m more of breadsmith, or cakesmith.”

He rocked a little in his chair, his nerves getting the better of him. “I just...I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her, and I want you to know that I will take care of her in any and every way that I can. Not just protecting her, because she can do that just fine on her own, but just...I’ll be there for her, ser. I’ll do everything I can to make her happy. I am not a man who makes promises or vows, because...I wasn’t a particularly dependable guy for the longest time, but I knew it, and refused to disappoint anyone. Now, when I promise something, I mean it. I am making a promise to you. I vow to love and cherish your daughter, to give her what she needs, to support her in her decisions, and tell her the truth she needs to hear, even if it’s not the truth she necessarily _wants_ to hear. I will never lie to her, or take her for granted.” Sandor fell silent, listening to the beeping of the machines.

“That’s good to hear, son, but if you don’t mind, could I have a glass of water?” he heard a gravelly voice say.

Sandor’s eyes snapped up and went wide. Ned was looking at him and smiling weakly. “Sure! Yes, of course, ser. Uh...I should...I should call the nurse…”

“Probably a wise idea,” Ned agreed. His voice was hoarse from months of disuse.

Sandor pressed the button and sure enough, Nurse Mordane came flying into the room. “Boy, if you pressed that button by mistake…”

Sandor pointed at Ned, “He asked for some water.”

“By the Seven…” The nurse’s hands flew to her mouth. “Of course, ser! Boy! Go get the missus. She’ll be wanting to know about this. Be quick about it!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sandor said, taking off in a sprint.

_Merry Sevenmas to the Starks._

**********

He ran down the stairs, running into Sansa, Jaime and Brienne coming in.

“Sandor! What’s wrong? Are you ok?” Sansa asked, immediately raising her hand to his cheek.

“I’m fine, it’s your dad.”

“What? What’s wrong?!” she asked, immediately alarmed. He shook his head.

“Nothing...he’s...he’s awake. Just now.”

“By the Seven,” she whispered. She turned to Brienne.

“Go, I’ll tell Cat and the others,” the blonde woman said, pushing Sansa and Sandor back to the stairs. They ran back to Ned’s room, Jaime close behind them.

Bursting into the room, Sansa stared at her father. Sandor stood behind her with Jaime. Ned was sitting up in bed, Nurse Mordane checking his pulse as he sipped water from a straw. Sandor watched Sansa. Her hands were covering her mouth, and she shook from joy.

“Father!” she cried, running to his side and throwing her arms around him. Nurse Mordane tsked, but she was smiling.

Ned looked over at Sandor and Jaime, “You’re quick for such a big guy, Clegane. Nice to see you again, Lannister.”

Jaime gave him a half-smile, “Surprisingly, it’s nice to see you again, too, Stark.”

“Mr. Stark, your vitals are good. I’ll go make a call to the doctor, let him know you woke up. Don’t get him riled up Miss Stark.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sansa said meekly.

Sandor and Jaime followed the nurse out, leaving the two alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how five year olds speak. :( So if Neddy's speech was off, that's why.
> 
> Posting two chapters today, because I really want to post chapter 36 on Christmas. Next chapter will be posted sometime this afternoon.


	35. Sansa: Papa Don't Preach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Papa Don't Preach](https://youtu.be/G333Is7VPOg)  
>  Ok, don't freak out, the main point of the song doesn't really have much to do with the chapter, but I couldn't think of another song, and I just like this version in general. :P The rest of the song kind of applies...loosely.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

“That’s quite a suitor you have there.” Ned smiled at her.

Sansa blushed. “You could tell?”

He reached for her, smoothing down a wild lock of hair. “Sansa, do you remember the stories Old Nan used to tell you?”

“Of course. Bran had her repeat them so many times, I could recite them in my sleep.”

“What about the ones about our family?” he asked.

She scrunched up her nose, “Um...let’s see, that the Starks come from the First Men, and that there’s magic in our blood.”

“Greenseers and wargs,” Ned supplied helpfully.

Sansa nodded. “What about it, Father?”

“While I was in my coma, I was still aware of what was happening around me. Even beyond my hospital room. It was just pieces of scenes at first. Then, the night before your most recent fight, I found myself standing next to you in a club. I could see Joffrey on the other side, heading towards you. Then I saw him. I would have recognized him even without his scars and his own history in MMA, your childhood friend Sandor Clegane. Suddenly I was behind him, and without thinking, I pushed him towards you. He probably thought it was someone jostling him from behind, but he started heading in your direction. I don’t know what happened after that. Next thing I knew, I was back in the hospital room, and you were telling me about your fight. You made no mention of Sandor, so I thought you must not have met him, and you made no mention of Joffrey either.”

Her eyes were wide with surprise and she shook her head slowly, “No, I did meet Sandor that night, he...he helped me avoid a scene with Joffrey.”

“You didn’t mention him until much later,” Ned said.

“I didn’t feel the need to at first, not until I realized…” she said quietly.

“Until you knew you were in love with him,” Ned finished for her. “That’s understandable. I saw scenes of the two of you together, saw you falling in love.”

She blushed, “Surely you didn’t _only_ watch us.”

Ned chuckled, “No, I also watched over your mother and siblings. Though it was only your mother that need my help. I saw Baelish trying to convince her to sign over the ownership of Winterfell Gym to him. I would whisper in her ear, encouraging her, telling her she didn’t need his help. She was worried, but she had Benjen and Bronn to help her. They both stepped up admirably.”

Sansa remembered that she had heard his voice the day before. “Father, yesterday…”

“Yes, that was me. I found myself following you and Baelish out towards the hedge maze, and when he held a gun to you. You are so strong, Sansa, but sometimes you need to be reminded of it.” He leaned back against his pillows. “That’s why Sandor is good for you. He knows you are strong, and he reminds you of it when you forget.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I really deserve him,” she said sadly. “He does so much for me, but what do I do for him?”

“You give him love, sweetheart. You fill his life with joy and happiness. Something he was missing from before you met him again.” Ned sighed heavily. “I knew who he was when he entered MMA. We never really ran in the same circles, despite our mutual connection to Bronn, so I never had the opportunity to see him in person again, but even if I had, I would not have mentioned you or your previous acquaintance. He was full of rage and hatred, and it made him excellent in the ring, but no one wanted to really be around him, save for a select few. Maybe if I had, it would have helped you both sooner.”

She clutched his hand, “Never mind the past, Father. It’s done and cannot be changed. Worrying over what could have been is as futile as a trying to make Arya ladylike. Except we can convince Arya to wear a dress once in awhile.”

“Like for your wedding, for instance?” Ned asked with a sly smile.

Sansa blushed again, “Yes, like that.” She fell silent for a few moments. “Did Sandor tell you?”

“He did. Right before I woke up.”

Sansa wanted to speak further on the subject, but the door burst open and all the Starks came pouring in, Catelyn at the front. Sansa stepped to the side and watched the tearful reunion.


	36. Sandor: I Call You Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I Call You Home](https://youtu.be/0MeW1dvIL_I)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

It was late in the day by the time the final preparations for Sevenmas were done, and the children were more than thrilled. The living room was filled to the brim with guests and family alike. Sandor sat quietly with Neddy on his lap. The boy had gotten so excited over all the Sevenmas presents that when he finally sat down, he had passed out from sheer exhaustion. Sansa was helping pass out the last of the gifts. He watched her flit gracefully from person to person. She’d look over at him every so often and smile. Her father had been wheeled in and was sitting on one of the couches next to Catelyn. The rest of their children were either trying to keep children from being unruly or being unruly themselves. Drogo and Bronn were comparing battle stories, little Rhaego sitting in between them, while Brienne refereed an arm wrestling competition between Arya and Ygritte. Despite being smaller, Arya was really making Ygritte work for it. Jon and Gendry were standing to the side, just shaking their heads over their women, each holding one of Robb’s kids. The Jeynes were taking bets on who would win. Robb, Jeyne I and Jaime were betting on Arya, while Theon, Margaery and Jeyne II were betting on Ygritte. Bran, Jojen and Shireen were helping clean up wrapping paper. Rickon was running around making sure everyone had something to drink or snack on.

It was a very lively affair, all in all, and Sandor was content to be a part of it.

Finally, Sansa was able to take a break and sit with him. She rested her head on his shoulder and he kissed the top of her head.

A commotion in the direction of the front door startled both of them, though Sandor recognized the voice immediately. Nana Clegane walked in, her brow furrowed as she looked for her grandson, with Tyrion and a Lorathi woman, whom he assumed was the famous Shae.

“Look who I found at the airport!” Tyrion announced jovially.

He shrunk a little as Nana focused her gaze on him and came stomping over. _I have a child on my lap. She won’t slap me. I think._

“Sandor Elijah Clegane, if I could take you over my knee I would do so right now!” she said crossly. “What were you thinking!? How could you not call me and tell me you were in the hospital?!”

“Nana...I…how did you...”

“Find out? Cat was kind enough to give me a call. I took the first plane back. I was so surprised to hear from her, and then she told me that your girlfriend is none other than _her daughter._ Why didn’t you tell me the Sansa you were dating was your childhood friend?!” She whacked him on the shoulder.

“Sorry, Nana...but we didn’t know until we got here, and Mrs. Stark told us,” he said meekly. Nana glared at him and then turned to Sansa, all smiles and sweetness.

“Sansa, dearie, you’ve grown so much. Do you remember me?” she asked.

“A little,” Sansa admitted shyly. “It’s nice to meet you...again, Mrs. Clegane.”

“Oh, posh, forget that Mrs. Clegane nonsense. You must call me Nana, like when you were a child,” Nana insisted.

“I...ok...Nana,” Sansa said happily.

Bronn came up behind Nana and hugged her. “Nana! I missed you.” Nana turned to Bronn and started berating him for not calling her either. Sandor chuckled and leaned over to Sansa.

“What do you think?” he whispered.

“I think I can see why you turned out so well,” Sansa whispered back.

“If it wasn’t for Nana, I would probably have died in a ditch somewhere after a fight or drinking myself to death,” he agreed.

 

**********

“Baelish asked to see me,” Sansa said as they settled into bed that night. Her hand rested on his chest, the canary diamond engagement ring glittering in the moonlight. Nana had insisted on giving Sandor the heirloom ring for Sansa when she heard the news. Everyone oooo'd and aww'd over the exchange, and then covered children's eyes when Sansa pulled him down for a very not-appropriate-for-general-audiences kiss.

“Oh?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, but he knew she felt his body stiffen.

“Yeah, he told the Sheriff he has some information and will trade it in exchange for seeing me. I agreed to it, but,” she said, cutting off his protest, “only if you were able to come with me.”

“Of course I’m going with you! I’m not letting you be alone near that cunt ever again, even if he has no use for his limbs anymore,” he said angrily. She smiled sadly.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling his neck. “I’m so sorry…”

He held her tightly. _Will we ever be free of his shadow?_

 

**********

The next morning, Sansa called the sheriff to let him know when they’d meet him at the hospital. She was quiet for the most part. He regretted showing her his temper, though it was a tiny flare. It hadn’t been directed at her, and he hoped she had known it, but he couldn’t quell the feeling.

He parked in the hospital lot, as close to the main entrance as he could get. Sansa made no move to get out. “Little bird?”

She unbuckled her seatbelt and slid over the leather covering of the bench seat to lean into him. “Am I making a mistake? Coming here to see him, I mean.”

Sandor thought about it. “I don’t know. He might be tricking you, lying about having information or the info he does have isn’t as valuable as he says it is, just to see you one more time. Then again, it might be extremely valuable and the cost is putting up with him once again.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Not going to lie, I hate that you’re going to see him again, but...I do feel better knowing that I’ll be there with you, even if it’s just for moral support.”

She tilted her head up to look at him. “What if I need you to be more than moral support?”

“Like what?” he asked, intrigued. She had that mischievous look in her eye.

“Like…” she reached up and slid her hand across his jaw and behind his head, “maybe if I need some stress relief? Would you be ok with that?”

He stared at her in amusement, “Are you saying you want to have sex in the car, in a hospital parking lot?”

“What?! No!” She looked around, “No one gets to see your sexy bod but me, got it?” He laughed, but nodded, glad that the tension that had been following them all morning had finally dissipated. “I meant, just make out a little bit. At the very most, a little over the clothes groping, but you still need to be able to walk into the hospital.”

“Ok,” he grinned, “I can do that.”

 

**********

_Why did I say I could do that?_ Sandor shifted uncomfortably in the elevator. The blonde nurse kept glancing back at him. He _knew_ she had seen his awkward boner when he walked in. Sansa had done her best to keep anyone from noticing, but she couldn’t provide cover for _every_ angle. He wished they could have waited a little while longer, but the sheriff had called, asking them where they were. He glared at the nurse when she glanced at him yet again. She flinched and kept her gaze straight ahead for the remainder of the ride.

They reached the seventh floor of the hospital in silence, and in Sandor’s case, relative calmness. Sheriff Rodrick was waiting for them. “Miss Stark, Mr. Clegane, thank you so much for agreeing to this. I’ll be in there with you, so if you feel uncomfortable at any point, please feel free to just leave the room.”

They followed him down a corridor, a deputy nodded to them as they entered the room. Baelish was sleeping, or at least feigning sleep. “Mr. Baelish,” the sheriff said, “I brought you some visitors.”

His eyes fluttered open comically. _Was definitely feigning sleep then._ He smiled shyly as he gazed at Sansa, who stared at him disinterestedly, and then a harsh scowl when his eyes slid to Sandor.

“That dog is not welcome in my presence,” Baelish spat out.

“That’s fine,” Sansa said smoothly, and Baelish beamed at her. She continued, “We’ll just be going then.” She turned to leave, her hand on Sandor’s arm.

“Wait! No, don’t go. He...he may stay,” Baelish said with a grimace.

“How kind of you,” Sansa said dryly, turning back towards him. “Why did you want to see me? The sheriff said you had additional information to trade.”

“Yes, I do.” He continued to gaze at her. Sandor saw the shift in her shoulders. _Well, that’s not good. Nice not knowing you, Baelish._

“The information, _Baelish._ What is it?” she said through gritted teeth.

“Sansa, sweetling, please call me--”

“That’s it, we’re leaving,” she said and grabbed Sandor’s hand.

“Wait! Please! I have information on your father!” That got her to turn back.

“What about him?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.

“He, ah, well, about his mugging, I can give you the name of the man who did it, who put him in a coma,” Baelish looked pleased with himself.

“Is it because you were the one who hired him?” Sansa snarled. She hadn’t let go of his hand and was gripping it tightly.

“I did that for you, sweetling.” Sansa gaped at him. “He was pushing you to enter MMA. You were much too delicate for it. Look at what happened to your perfect nose. You can still see the indentation from when it broke in your first fight. I can have that fixed, I know a great plastic surgeon.”

Sandor looked down at Sansa’s nose. Any indication of a broken nose was miniscule at best.

“ _That’s_ why you arranged to have my father killed? Because he _suggested_ I enter the ring??” she exclaimed in horror.

“He doesn’t take your safety as seriously as I do. You deserve to be surrounded by luxury, silk, gold and diamonds, not sweaty training mats.”

“I _like_ those training mats!” she yelled at him.

He shook his head as best he could, which really wasn’t much. “No, sweetling, you don’t. You only think you like them because you haven’t had better.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath. “His name? The man who attempted to kill my father.”

“Lyn Corbray. Usually better at finishing the task,” Baelish said. Sandor raised an eyebrow. He remembered Sansa telling him that whoever mugged her father hadn’t gotten away without serious damage. Eddard Stark was a fighter through and through, a trait he passed on to his children.

She kept her eyes closed. Her grip on his hand was no longer tight, but it was still firm. “Sheriff, my father should be able to confirm Corbray's identity if you take him a photo array. He woke up yesterday." Sandor found Baelish's face way too amusing at that announcement. "Baelish. Is there any other information you would like to supply to the sheriff, in addition to the name of man who tried to kill my father under the guise of a mugging?”

“That is all, for now. I will tell you more the next time you come visit. Leave the dog at home though, if you don’t mind,” Baelish said, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“Sheriff,” Sansa said in a cold voice, opening her eyes. Baelish flinched under her gaze. “If you don’t mind, I would like a few moments alone with Mr. Baelish. Don’t worry,” she said when the sheriff began to protest, “Sandor will remain and make sure I do nothing to further damage the prisoner.”

Sheriff Rodrick looked at him and he nodded, he would indeed make sure that Sansa did not do anything to injure Baelish and further damage herself in the process. He was glad that the sheriff did not ask if _he_ would need the same restraint. If Sansa asked him to do anything, he would. The sheriff walked out of the room and closed the door. Sansa let go of Sandor’s hand and walked around the bed to stand next to it. He felt the absence of her hand, but not of her. He could feel the bond between them, humming pleasantly to a frequency above everyone else’s hearing. Or maybe it was of his own imagination. If anything good could be said of Baelish’s insane plot, it would be that they had come out stronger together for it.

Her voice was ice as she spoke to Baelish. “Once I leave this room, I will never come back. I will not be visiting you again, so listen very closely.” She paused, allowing her words to sink in. “I _never_ loved you. I never _will_ love you. This person you seem to think that I am, or should be, is merely a figment of your imagination.” She turned to look at Sandor. “He understands me, he _sees_ me for who I am, and he makes me want to be better, to do better." She turned back to Baelish. "He loves me, and I love him. We’ve been bonded since we were children, _married_ since we were children, in the eyes of the Old Gods.” Sandor would be lying if he said didn’t enjoy the look on Baelish’s face when she said that, something between horror and astonishment. “And soon, we will be married by the laws of Westeros. I will ride his cock and accept his seed. I will bear his children proudly, and we will raise them to be strong, caring and self-sufficient individuals. Our line will flourish, while yours will die out. You see," she took a step closer to the bed. "There are multiple reasons that we would never work out, _Baelish,_ but there’s one that you probably weren’t even aware of, something that you seemed to think was _ever_ so important _._ There’s something wrong with you, physically, possibly even the reason you’re so insane. I looked into it a few years ago. I was prepared to love and nurture that baby you decided to _give_ me. Please note that I would have killed you before you got your claws in it. I never aborted it. The thought never even crossed my mind, despite how I came to be pregnant. I mourned the loss of _my_ baby, but it was a miscarriage, due to a flaw in _your_ DNA. It makes your fertility unstable. Any child you conceive is doomed to never see the light of day.”

“Sweetling...I…”

She sighed. “Save it, Baelish. I’m not interested in anything you have to say. You have _no_ money, you have _no_ friends, you have _no_ allies. You are going to jail, or at least a secure mental institution. You will _never_ be able to hurt me or my family ever again. And if I get even the _hint_ of you or one of your goons sniffing around, I will kill them and then I will kill you. Do you understand me?”

He frowned but said, “I understand.”

“Good. Now, I will be leaving with Sandor. The sheriff will come back in and you will tell him every single piece of information you think will help your sorry case. Or don’t. I don’t care anymore.” She turned and began to walk away.

“He will never love you like I love you!” Baelish yelled. She stopped, and grabbed a nearby towel that was sitting on the sink.

“Good,” she said, stuffing the towel into his mouth. “I’d prefer if he didn’t.”

She marched over to Sandor and kissed him deeply. He sucked in a breath when she broke the kiss and he stared into her eyes. Tully blue eyes filled with warmth and light looked back at him. Her voice was soft, “He loves me best, after all. Like no one else ever could or will. Goodbye, Baelish.” She took Sandor’s hand and led him out. The sheriff was waiting for them in the hallway. “Sheriff, as promised, your prisoner did not suffer further physical damage from me. I did, however, gag him. No matter what he promises you, please know that I will not be returning for another visit. Good day, Sheriff.”

“I understand, Miss Stark. Good day to you as well.”

Sandor walked with Sansa back to the elevator. The gag must have been removed, because he could hear Baelish screaming Sansa’s name as they waited for the doors to open and take them back to the ground floor. She made no indication that she heard it and rewarded him with a makeout session when he didn’t mention it. _Two awkward boners in the same elevator. I can live with that._

**********

The rest of the visit to Winterfell went by in a blur, and was thankfully uneventful, outside of the normal scuffles that comes from having so many family members. Arya announced that she was pregnant again, to everyone’s surprise, including Gendry’s. Margaery and Bronn announced their own engagement. And Jaime announced he was trying to knock Brienne up, to which Brienne responded to by punching him. In what felt like no time at all, they were pulling into the driveway of Sandor’s home, after dropping Nana off along the way.

Sansa unlocked the door as Sandor grabbed their bags. Stranger ran around the yard, marking every tree and bush he could see. She asked him to leave the bags in the laundry room, and she’d get to them later. As he set the bags down, he realized something felt different. Not bad, just different. He couldn’t quite place it.

He found her getting food ready for Stranger in the kitchen and watched her quietly as he leaned against the door frame. She measured out three cups carefully, and put the bowl on the floor once Stranger was calm. After petting his head, she walked over to the refrigerator and added “dog food” to the grocery list.

“Sansa,” he called out. She turned to him and smiled broadly.

“You watching me?” she asked coyly.

“Maybe.”

She looked him up and down, “Like what you see?”

“Definitely.” He grinned and she ran a few steps to jump into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as he held her, and she kissed him soundly. Stranger happily ignored them for his food. She looked up at him, her eyes darkened by desire. His cock twitched inside his pants, and she gave him a knowing grin. He only chuckled. “I know,” he said.

Sandor carried her to the bedroom. She helped peel off their clothes as they went. She mewled happily as he slid his fingers along her slit, playing lightly with her clit. _So wet, and all for me._ Kissing her along her jawline, he felt her push her hips up, rubbing her mound against his cock. He aligned himself with her entrance and pushed his cock inside her, eliciting a delightful gasp from her. He lifted her leg to give himself a better angle. Her eyes went a little wider at that, her moans became a little deeper. She gripped his shoulders, moving her hips in slow circles to meet his thrusts, and he heard her whisper his name. _Fuck, if she says it like that…_ He was lost, lost in her, lost in the only place he’d never want to leave anyway. He would happily stay lost with her, as long as she kept saying his name like that. When she came, it was like a song that was meant for his ears alone. A song he wanted to hear over and over.

Sated, he rolled to the side and pulled her close into his embrace. She nestled against him, her fingers playing with his chest hair. It fascinated her that it was so thick, which he found adorable and maybe a little disconcerting, but mostly adorable.

How many times had they coupled since they met? He hadn’t counted, but he knew it was a lot. They had known each other a little more than two months now, had fucked nearly every day, sometimes two or three times a day. She never pushed him away, was always willing, and was even the instigator half the time. She always listened to him. She talked with him. She made him feel like he belonged somewhere. A feeling he hadn’t felt since he moved out of his grandmother’s house so long ago.

“What do you want to do about dinner?” she asked softly. “I doubt you feel like cooking today. I think we have a frozen lasagna. Or we could order some Pentoshi takeout for delivery?” He listened to her chirp more suggestions, giving her a shake of his head if it didn’t sound good, or a rumbled _Maybe_ if it did. They finally decided on delivery pizza. It was very simple, very mundane, very domestic, and absolutely perfect.

 _Home,_ thought Sandor. _This is what home feels like._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to end the contest on the second to last chapter, but I forgot and told people they had that last chapter as well. My bad. :(  
> In the event of a tie...if it ends up being a tie for second place, then whoever had the most 3 pointers wins, and the other will take third place. If it's a tie for third place, same applies, but the other will get an honorable mention and a cameo.


	37. Epilogue: 5 years later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter. Are you prepared? Winners of the First Contest will be announced in the End Notes, once the first three comments are made.
> 
> [Flares](https://youtu.be/Zb5HMYAGNsA) Video doesn't have much, if anything, to do with the chapter. I just like it and wanted to share it. :)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

They stood facing each other, each in their fighting stance. Sansa glared at Sandor. He didn’t look very pleased with her either.

“You realize that this is serious. You may very well die here tonight,” she hissed.

“You may talk a good fight, but it will be _you_ that dies,” he responded calmly. She raised an eyebrow and her lip curled into a cruel smile. Her shadow of her hood hid her eyes from him. His own hood was pushed too far back to be effective, but his grimace made him frightening enough.

“Then what are you waiting for? _Hound.”_ She launched herself at him, throwing a wild punch that he easily blocked, but left him open for another punch to his ribs. He stumbled backwards a few steps, cursing under his breath. She ran at him, jumping and kicking forward with her right, then left leg. He blocked and grabbed her waist, taking her down hard. She screamed her frustration, “Let,” elbow to his shoulder, “Me,” another elbow to his back, “GO!” a knee to his side. He grunted, but did not let go. He lifted her up, swinging her legs up as he got to his feet and then slammed her back down onto the mat. She cried out. “You eff-ing b-word!”

He grinned and attempted to pin her, but she kicked free. She jumped to her feet and attempted a roundhouse kick to his head. He dodged, but she kept spinning and kicked again, this time connecting with his arm. He grabbed her leg and twisted, but she spun her body into it, gaining the appreciation of the crowd as she managed to kick him a third time, this one sending him back to his knees.

Scrambling to her feet, she backed up a few steps and took another run at him. She feigned a jumping tackle, causing him to stand back up quickly and with less stability, and then she moved to spear him. He went down with an “omph!” and a groan. His arm, he didn’t protect his arm! Quickly, she flipped him over and grabbed his hand, locking her legs over his shoulder and across his back.

“Armbar!” came a worried cry from the crowd surrounding them.

“Give up!” Sansa yelled.

“Never!” he yelled back. He struggled with all his might, but she did not budge. Finally, tears in his eyes, he tapped the mat.

“Tapout!” Bronn yelled, as the official referee. “He tapped out!”

Sansa let go of his arm and fell forward to the sound of thunderous applause. She rolled onto her back, her hood falling to the mat and her chest heaving from the exertion. As the crowd of parents and students began to disperse, a pair of small children ran to her. “Momma! Momma! You beat Daddy!” the three-year-old twins cried happily in unison. They jumped on her, giggling madly. Lyan, her baby boy, smiled shyly as he snuggled next to her. His jet black hair and Tully blue eyes proved his parentage as much as his sister Elida’s flame red hair and grey eyes. Little Eli was sitting cross-legged next to Sansa and pointing at Sandor.

“Daddy! Daddy! Momma make you crap out!” she said in her singsong voice.

Sandor groaned as he sat up, pulled the hood of his costume off and shook his head at his daughter. “Eli, you naughty pup. You _know_ it’s called ‘tapout’. Not ‘crap out.’” She giggled and buried her face in Sansa’s stomach. Bronn scooped her up and tossed her backwards over his shoulder, blowing a raspberry on her exposed tummy. Eli screamed and kicked in delight. Little Lee burrowed deeper into his mother’s side. Sansa chuckled and rubbed his back. He didn’t speak much in public, but his sister more than made up for it. Sandor got to his knees and scooped Lee up in his arms. “C’mon pup, your mother needs to get up as well.” Lee protested, but ultimately wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and went quietly. Sandor offered Sansa a helping hand to get up. She accepted it, jumping up and kissing him lightly, but lovingly, which made both Eli and Lee giggle.

“Mr. and Mrs. Clegane?” a voice behind them said. They turned. The principal of the school, Tyrion’s now wife, Shae, approached them. “That was a marvelous demonstration! I appreciate the use of the ‘bleeped’ swear words, as well.These costumes are so elaborate. You played your parts so well, I really believed you were out for each other’s blood,” she said in amazement.

“Oh, that’s because Sansa doesn’t play around,” Sandor said with a half-grin. “She really was going for the jugular.” Sansa elbowed him in the side.

“Daddy, whas a jug-lar?” Lee asked.

“It’s what Mommy aims for in every fight,” Bronn said helpfully, ruffling the boy’s hair. Eli wriggled in his arms, reaching for her mother, until Bronn handed her to Sansa. “And she always finds it.”

“Bronn!” Sansa said, exasperated. Shae laughed.

“Well, however you did it, it was wonderful. We raised a lot of money due to it, and I wanted to personally thank you for your help tonight. Incidentally, Mr. Clegane, Tyrion wants to speak to you about making an order.”

“Of course, lead and I will follow,” Sandor said, taking Lee with him as he followed Shae through the crowd. His shop was doing very well, with Tyrion as one of his main customers.

“What? No kiss goodbye?” Bronn teased. Sansa rolled her eyes.

“His blood is up, so is mine. It wouldn’t stop at a kiss. I don’t think you want Aggie to see that,” Sansa smirked. Right on cue, a nearly five-year old blonde menace came barrelling towards Bronn, a tired but happy looking Margaery right behind her, with a one-year-old cutie in her arms. Bronn caught his daughter easily. Margaery smiled at him gratefully and kissed him hello. Jaime followed, his two-year-old son passed out in his arms. The child had inherited Brienne’s eyes and hair color, but the volume and silkiness marked him as Jaime’s. Sansa wished Brienne had been able to make it to the demo as well, but she was on patrol duty for the next hour. They would see her at Tyrion’s party later.

“How’d the demo go?” asked Margaery. Little Abby chewed on her teething ring glumly as she nestled in her mother’s arms. She never looked particularly happy, even when she was.

“Sansa beat Sandor into the mat,” Bronn said proudly. “Still can’t believe you gave up MMA.”

She rolled her eyes. “I still train like I’m in it, and he only lost because he didn’t protect his arm,” Sansa said in her husband’s defense. “I would have been the one on my back if he had.”

“And then another baby Clegane would have been on its way, much to the dismay of the parents watching,” Loras said with a grin. He had snuck up behind Margaery and gave both his sister and niece a light kiss on the cheek. “Though I’m sure at least some of them would have appreciated the free porn.” Sansa made a face at him, but muttered _Probably._ The likelihood of the twins being conceived in their home gym was incredibly high.

“Momma, what porn?” Eli asked. Loras had the decency to blush. Sansa glared at him.

“Something I hope you never learn about, sweetie,” she said and distracted Eli with tickles.

“So how’d the costumes work out?” Jaime asked, trying to help with the distractions.

“Very well. Easy enough to move in. Still not sure why Margaery dressed us up like Assassin’s Creed, but the kids seemed to like it.”

“Oh, you know exactly why,” Margaery said with a grin.

“So...Operation: Date Night is still a go?” asked Jaime.

“Yeah, I already prepped the location. You’ll be on duty to handle the aftermath?” Sansa replied. Jaime nodded.

“Sansa, darling!” her mother called out. Ned followed closely behind her. They had ten-year-old Neddy and his four-year-old sister Bobbi with them. Arya and Gendry were nowhere to be seen, despite the fact that this was Neddy’s school and it had been Arya who had roped her and Sandor into doing the demonstration.

“Mother! Father! Did you enjoy the demo?” Sansa asked, shifting Eli to her other hip so she could kiss Neddy on the cheek. He made a face, but hugged her anyway.

“It was so spectacular!” Catelyn said. “I can’t believe he didn’t merely let you win. He was really struggling, wasn’t he?”

Sansa smiled. “Yes, he was. He made a few mistakes and I used to them to my advantage.”

Catelyn peered down at her grandson. “And how did you like it, Elida?”

“Momma strong!” yelled Eli with her bright smile. “But Daddy make yummier food.” Catelyn laughed and offered her arms to the girl, who happily slid into her embrace.

“You sure you and Father are ok watching the kids tonight?” Sansa asked. Catelyn scoffed.

“Of course we are, sweetheart,” Ned said, hugging his daughter. “You and Sandor go have your date night or whatever you kids call it these days. Nana Elida will be picking them up tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, and thank you again,” Sansa whispered and kissed his cheek. Sandor returned and handed Lee over to Ned. He offered his arm to Sansa.

“Shall we, milady?” he asked her in mock seriousness.

“We shall, milord,” she responded with a giggle. Bronn and Margaery walked with them to the cars, placing Aggie and Abby in their car seats before continuing.

“Hand over the phones,” Bronn said. They did, and he handed them walkie talkies. “Ok, Margaery will drop the kids off at her mother’s place. I’ll drop you guys off at your stop, then we both continue on to Tyrion’s for the all night pizza party and game jam. You do what you need to do and we’ll all be waiting for you with your favorite slices. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Sandor said.

**********

“Operation: Date Night is a go." She looked down at the costume she was still wearing. "I guess I do know exactly why,” she whispered to herself, in response to Margaery’s remark earlier. Sansa peeked in the window. The room was vacant. She moved on to the next window. She could see movement through the open doorway. Someone was walking around. Silently, she crept along back to the vacant room. She had already checked the alarm system. It was disabled, and she had to wonder if he ever turned it on. It hasn’t been on when she had broken into the house earlier in the day either. She tried the window. The idiot hadn’t checked to make sure his house was locked up. He was making it too easy, his arrogance would be his downfall. The window slid open easily as she pushed it up with her gloved hands and without much sound. She jumped and pulled herself up into the room. She closed the window carefully before walking away from it. Her Assassin’s Creed outfit allowed her maximum maneuverability, but also was made to be silent as she walked. She had no idea where Margaery had gotten these custom costumes, but she was definitely putting a positive review on that person’s website once she found out. She picked up the duffel bag she had stashed in the library, the one place in his home that she knew Joffrey wouldn’t visit.

She snuck through the house, find the occupied room. It looked like he was just getting started. Boros and Meryn were already passed out drunk, but the tainted beer might have had more to do with that than the pisswater they were drinking. Joffrey wasn’t as far along as his friends, but he was drunk enough to have decided his “date” for the evening should be tied up. The poor girl looked like she had just realized what a bad mistake she had made by agreeing to come to Joff’s house. Sansa shook her head. At least she hadn’t been stripped and beaten yet. She hadn’t been sure if he would bring someone tonight, but her plan didn’t hinge on it. He was never going to learn. She pulled out the tranq gun she had bought many years ago for research on one of her books. Checking the gun, she then aimed it squarely at Joff’s ass. He was wearing thin pants and the dart had no trouble getting through them. He toppled over like a sack of potatoes. The girl looked up in relief and then horror again. Sansa approached her slowly, and untied the ropes binding her.

She had been practicing speaking at a lower pitch than her normal voice, “Leave this place. Call the police if you want, but wait half an hour before doing so. Tell them you escaped when they got drunk and started doing stuff to each other. Say that you would have called sooner, but you were too scared. Be as vague as possible. Do not mention me. They will pay for what they’ve done to others, for what they were going to do to you.”

“Wh-what were they going to do?” the girl asked shakily. Sansa turned to the nearby wall and pressed a hidden button. A panel slid open, exposing the various instruments of torture. The girl squeaked and backed away. “Thirty minutes, you said?”

Sansa nodded and pointed at the door. The girl took off like a shot, leaving the door wide open behind her. After she was gone, Sansa proceeded to open all the hidden panels. Some held more torture devices, but others held books of erotic stories, histories of torture, snuff videos and drawing plans for future and past “dates”. Her own was probably in there, but she didn’t bother to look for it. That wasn’t part of the plan and would draw unwanted attention to her if she did. She randomly picked one of the videos from Joff’s collection, put it in the dvd player, and pressed play. She pulled some videos out of her bag to add to Joff’s collection. She had stolen them from Meryn Trant’s apartment, and judging from the titles, not something she’d want to watch. It screamed kiddy porn. She also added in books and self recordings from Boros Blount’s home. He apparently had a thing for domination and submission, but his tastes ran more towards being the submissive one. Extremely submissive. Considering how much trouble he had gone to in order to hide the videos, she had a feeling this was a secret even from Joff.

She headed to the kitchen next and pulled the tainted beer out of the fridge. She opened up all the bottles and dumped them down the drain. Next, she scattered the bottles around the room, and replaced the semi-full bottles in their hands with untainted ones. The “poison” was designed to make them get drunk faster and would metabolize in their bloodstream like regular alcohol, but it could be detected in the beer if it should be tested.

After that, she pulled the dart out of Joff’s ass and put it back in her duffel. It had held a similar compound, making it only look like he had been drunk as well. She hefted Joffrey up onto the couch. She wasn’t looking forward to this next part. She unzipped his pants and slid a cockring onto his dick. She grimaced and stroked him until he was fully enlarged, looking away from it as she did so. She looked around, trying to decide which magazine would be the worst for the police to find him jerking off too.

She noticed that Boros had passed out on the bean bag chair, giving her an idea. She unbuttoned and then cut a piece of fabric from Boros’s shirt. She then undid his pants, pulling them down to his knees. She tied the strip of fabric around his dick as a makeshift cockring. She closed her eyes tight as she stroked him to a full erection. With that done, she flipped him over onto his stomach. She picked up a riding crop, Joffrey’s favorite, and took it to Boros’s back a little bit, enough to redden the area and leave a few marks. She spread his legs as well, enough so that she could fit Joffrey in between them and on top of Boros. She turned the bean bag chair so that they would be facing the tv, like Meryn was. Carefully, she placed the riding crop in Joffrey’s hand. Next, she unzipped Meryn’s pants, but only wrapped his hand around his cock. She had had enough of other men’s privates and was going to need a good long stare at Sandor’s to erase these dicks from her mind. Satisfied with her work, she took a step back to admire it. A very cold dish, indeed.

"Happy break-up anniversary, Joffrey," she whispered. "I hope you like your gift."

Her walkie talkie crackled to life. “Watchdog to Hawk’s Eye, your window of time is nearly up. Over.”

She lifted it to her lips. “Roger that. Moving out now. Report only if any movement headed in my direction. Over.”

“Copy that. Over and out.”

She picked up her bag, making sure everything she needed to take with her was in it. She turned her head away from the tv and turned it on. Blood curdling screams and cries of pleasure mixed together over the speakers. Keeping her eyes on the floor, she walked to the door.  Before she stepped through the open doorway, she turned back. She could hear the police sirens in the distance. “So long, Joffrey. Let’s see your mother help you out of this one.”

**********

They hid behind some tall bushes. Sandor pulled off his costume, revealing his usual jeans and t-shirt underneath. Sansa shrugged off the jacket, her favorite yellow shirt on underneath. It paired well with the pants from her costume. They stuffed the discarded costumes in her duffel. They had watched the police cart Joffrey, Meryn and Boros away. A few of the younger patrolmen had run out of the house and were sick in the flowerbed. Sansa couldn’t blame them. Jaime was directing the cops on the scene. None of the evidence was going to escape or be covered up under his watchful eye.

They walked away from Joffrey’s house. Five blocks later, they reached Bronn’s truck. Sandor and he had parked it there earlier in the day. They got in and drove to Tyrion’s place, where every single person there would swear that the Cleganes had been there all night, should they find they need an alibi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winners of the First Contest  
> First: SassyEggs (43 points)  
> Second: AdultOrphan (32 points)  
> Third: omj319 (29 points)
> 
> The prizes are as follows:  
> Third place picks the rating level.  
> Second place picks: Modern, Canon or Other.  
> First place picks a prompt. _Bring it on, Sassy!_ :D
> 
> Each one gets a cameo in the story, and gets to pick their own pairing. Except for Sandor, since he's part of the main pairing. Lol. Please have three characters ready, in order of preference, for your pairing. (In case duplicates are made. First come, first serve.)


End file.
